


A Profound Bond

by JadeyKins



Category: Supernatural, Superwood - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: AU!humanverse, Alcohol, BDSM, Dom!Cas, Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sub!Dean, Violence, service submission (in the newest chapters), sub!jack, the character 'Trey MacDougal' is an alias but he is not an OC either just fyi for those reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 132,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeyKins/pseuds/JadeyKins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow Dean found his way down the rabbit hole of the dom/sub corner of the internet. What he finds is not only unexpected, but maybe... liberating? Two strangers help Dean learn that happiness isn't always colored within the lines and he helps them learn just what sacrifice and righteousness truly means</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kitty_KatAllie for fixing my summary. It's way cooler now!
> 
> Also, this work has been going on for almost two years. My writing has been shifting and these early chapters definitely need work. I hope to get some time to fix them, but with so much going on, that seems less than likely in the near future. 3/25/15

Dean set the beer down. The liquid’s taste coated his mouth and he could feel the thrum in his body from the other couple of beers he’d had. Wandering through porn sites had led him to sites he didn’t usually surf. A tug towards things he only ever occasionally saw dragged him onwards. Alone with Sammy’s laptop, he’d ended up in this chat room. 

Wiping his mouth, Dean tried to think of something to say in the plethora of madness going on. He’d simply said that he was new to the scene and curious and now he was staring at a mass of conversation. People just kept talking and he was having a hard time deciphering the lingo and keeping up. Dean wiped his hand on his jeans and shook his head. This whole thing was a mistake.

He slid the mouse over to the x for the chat window.

A private message request came across his screen. 

“Trenchcoat Angel wants to chat!”

Dean hovered over the accept button. “What the hell,” he muttered to himself. He hit accept. Text popped up.

Trenchcoat Angel: Hello.

Simple enough word. Dean wiped his mouth again. 

ImpalaDriver: Hey.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Don’t let the others scare you.  
ImpalaDriver: I’m not scared.  
Trenchcoat Angel: No?  
ImpalaDriver: I’m lost. Kinda new to this whole thing.  
ImpalaDriver: I’ve only ever watched it in porn.  
Trenchcoat Angel: And now you’re considering doing it yourself?  
ImpalaDriver: Thinking about it.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Why?

Dean leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. The question was a good one. Finally, he scratched the back of his head, swore at himself, and typed a response.

ImpalaDriver: I don’t know.  
ImpalaDriver: Seems like fun.

Almost a full minute passed before the next response.

Trenchcoat Angel: What would you like to know?

Dean stared at the blinky line begging for him to type. He took another swig of his beer and began asking questions. Trenchcoat Angel helped clear up a lot of confusion. As the conversation wore on, Dean forgot all about his beer. He was too concerned with reading and typing. After a while, Trenchcoat added another person into the conversation, someone running with the tag ImmortalSin, and Immortal could answer questions from the sub side.

Hours passed. Suddenly, Dean heard a key in the door. He slammed the laptop shut and tried to look inconspicuous. Sam came through the door and eyed him. “On anime porn again?”

“Uh, no.” Dean fussed with his warm beer bottle. “Give me a minute and I’ll clear out the history.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, passing by the table on his way to the bathroom.

Dean waited until Sam had shut the door before he reopened the laptop.

Trenchcoat Angel: Dean?  
Trenchcoat Angel: Hello?  
ImmortalSin: Think we lost him.  
ImpalaDriver: Sorry. I’ve gotta run.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Come back online at 10 pm tomorrow.

Dean smirked and typed.

ImpalaDriver: Is that an order?  
Trenchcoat Angel: … Yes.

For a moment, Dean hesitated to answer. 

ImpalaDriver: We’ll have to see.

Then Dean did as he’d promised Sam. He exited the chat and cleared the history. By the time Sam came back, the evidence of what he’d been doing was gone. Since Sam assumed he’d been surfing porn, he didn’t ask what he’d been up to. Dean got ready for bed.

\---  
The whole next day, Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation he’d had online. He spent the daylight hours trying to find work and failing once again. No one in the area was hiring a guy who barely got his GED and didn’t have an address. Honestly, Sam was just scouting out schools in the area. Dean wasn’t even sure this was where Sam would end up, or if he even wanted to be around Sam while his brother went to school.

That night they watched crappy television and ate pizza. Sam surfed the net and Dean tried not to watch the clock drag on towards ten. At 9:59, Dean turned to Sam and asked, “Hey dude, can I borrow your laptop?”

“Sure, give me a few minutes.”

Minutes passed like hours. It was 10:15 before Sam even moved. At 10:16, Sam handed the laptop over and headed off to the shower. Alone again, Dean logged onto the chat room. Before even a few second had passed, a request for a private conversation popped up.

Trenchcoat Angel: You’re late.  
ImpalaDriver: Yeah. Sorry. Comp isn’t mine and I waited too long to ask.

An agonizingly long time passed before a response came.

Trenchcoat Angel: If you were my sub, that’d be cause for punishment.  
ImpalaDriver: Oh yeah? What would you do?  
Trenchcoat Angel: This would be a fairly minor offense. And your first one.  
Trenchcoat Angel: I’d tie your hands behind your back for 30 mins.  
ImpalaDriver: Doesn’t sound like much.  
ImmortalSin: He didn’t say what he’d be doing to you during the time.

Dean flushed a dark shade of red. He heard the shower snap off and he groaned in frustration.

ImpalaDriver: Damn it. My brother is almost back.  
ImmortalSin: You share a room with your brother?”  
ImpalaDriver: We’re in a motel. He’s checking out schools.  
ImmortalSin: Ah.  
ImpalaDriver: What happened to Trenchcoat?  
ImmortalSin: He’s… thinking.  
ImpalaDriver: About…?  
ImmortalSin: I’m not supposed to tell you.

Laughing to himself, Dean typed: What are you? His sub?

ImmortalSin: Yeah. Why do you think he had me in here?  
ImmortalSin: Though I gotta admit, I like watching him pace.

Dean coughed to clear his throat. Sam was brushing his teeth.

ImpalaDriver: Is he pissed at me?  
ImmortalSin: … No. He’s just thinking.  
ImmortalSin: You got a little rude.  
ImpalaDriver: How?  
ImmortalSin: By saying that it wasn’t much of a punishment. Now he’s trying to think of something better.  
ImpalaDriver: It’s not going to matter. We’re not even in the same room. What’s he thinking of doing? Punishing me over the internet?  
ImmortalSin: …Actually.

Dean blinked at the screen a couple of times.

ImpalaDriver: Oh come on! What could he do?  
ImmortalSin: Tell you to do something.  
ImpalaDriver: I wouldn’t have to do it though.  
ImmotalSin: True, but if you want to get a taste without risking endangerment, you’ll do it.  
ImpalaDriver: …  
ImpalaDriver: Guess he’ll have to come up with something first.  
ImmortalSin: Oh don’t challenge him. And crap. Now I’m in trouble.  
ImpalaDriver: Why?  
ImmortalSin: I wasn’t supposed to tell you what he’s thinking about.  
ImpalaDriver: You’re kidding me.  
ImmortalSin: You really don’t get this whole ‘follow orders’ thing, huh?  
ImpalaDriver: Apparently neither do you.  
ImmortalSin: Fair point.

Sam emerged from the bathroom. Dean could get rid of the guilty look on his face. “Seriously? I’m gone like ten minutes and you use it on porn?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get off in a second here.”

“Ew.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Dude, not what I meant.”

ImpalaDriver: Crap. I’ve got to go. Brother’s back.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Why?  
ImpalaDriver: ‘Cause it’s awkward just thinking about this stuff with my brother in the room.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Why? Because it arouses you?

Heat crawled up his skin and Dean tried to will away the blush. Sam was staring at him, so Dean figured that he failed. 

ImpalaDriver: Yes.  
Trenchcoat Angel: I’ve thought of your punishment.  
ImpalaDriver: What?  
Trenchcoat Angel: I want you to construct a fantasy about what we told you yesterday.  
ImpalaDriver: That’s not that hard.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Do so for an hour, without touching yourself.

Dean gawked at the computer.

ImpalaDriver: You mean… I can’t masturbate.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Precisely.  
ImpalaDriver: What’s immortal’s punishment?  
Trenchcoat Angel: Why do you want to know?

Sam let out a loud sigh and Dean glared at him. “Just a minute, okay?” Dean said. “I’m talking to someone.”

ImpalaDriver: Because he got to see mine.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Valid reason. I’m going to gag him for the next hour.  
ImpalaDriver: While you…?  
Trenchcoat Angel: Now that I won’t tell you. You’ll have to think about what I could be doing.

“Do I need to leave you alone?” Sam asked.

“Just a minute.”

ImpalaDriver: I really have to go.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Ten, tomorrow night.  
ImpalaDriver: I’ll be here.

Dean cleared out of the chat room and handed the computer back to Sam. “There, okay?”

“Okay. You don’t have to get so testy,” Sam snapped.

“Me? You’re the one freaking out over there,” Dean replied.

“’Cause I can see you getting hard, Dean.”

“What’re you doing looking there anyway?” Dean said hotly.

“The way you were sitting, it was kinda obvious.”

“Whatever. I’m going to head outside.” The door slammed too loudly behind him and Dean sighed. Frustrated, he shoved his hands through his hair a few times in a vain hope to calm down. The guy from the room next door eyed him and Dean faked a smile back at him. The other guy muttered something to himself and went into the room. Feeling restless, Dean wrenched open the back door of the Impala and slid inside. He went for a drive.


	2. Of Punishments and Chats

Dean didn’t have to do this. He repeated the thought a few dozen times to himself. Trenchcoat was just some dude on the internet who thought it’d be fun to tease him. The guy would never know the difference if Dean spent the whole night masturbating, but still got online and told him the next day he’d obey. But that would be missing the point of this little exercise. If he wanted to keep going back to that chat, he ought to at least experiment. Besides, this was harmless and easy.

Laying down in the back seat, Dean set an alarm on his phone. One whole hour. He could do this.

At first he drifted through the different topics. Trench had questioned why Dean wanted to be a sub, and Dean had to admit that he liked giving himself over. Someone else’s instructions to follow, someone else using him for their pleasure, had a nice appeal. That had drawn an angry response from Trench. “Dominance and Submission isn’t about using one another,” Trench had lectured. “A dom guides his/her sub. A sub hands over control, trusts their dom, and the dom ensures both parties enjoy the scene. It’s not about letting yourself be someone’s chew toy. You have to have respect for yourself, or no dom will.”

Those words had made Dean stick around in the chat room. 

He hoped that Trench and Immortal Sin were good-looking guys. Since this was a fantasy, he didn’t feel guilty over the vanity. Playing out different scenarios in his head, Dean settled into the seat more. His hand gently touched his jeans before he remembered that he wasn’t allowed to touch. So he put both hands above his head and kept imagining different restraints, the heat and press of their bodies. Trench seemed like the kind of guy who had a firm, strong touch. A man who knew exactly how to order Dean. 

Confident time had passed, Dean glanced at his phone. 

Only ten minutes gone.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. The ache in his pants was already annoying. He almost abandoned the punishment then. Instead, he rolled his mind back into the fantasy world.

A clean hotel room with white sheets. Cuffs. Maybe a gag. Two eager men wanting to have their way with him. Dean’s mind chased the fleeting images until they became concrete. Once more, his hand drifted towards his pants, but Dean stopped himself.

The alarm’s ring was a freaking miracle. Dean didn’t even bother turning the song off. Trench’s punishment had ended at an hour. Finally, Dean could find release. Every breath of movement across his skin made him gasp. He bit his bottom lip to hold back a moan. Then he threw back his head and let his hand help him relax.

\--- 

The next night, Dean logged onto the chat at precisely ten. Thankfully Sam was out again, and Dean promised himself that tomorrow night or maybe the night after, he’d go out and have some fun. Funds were tight, but that had never stopped him before. 

Almost two minutes passed before a message popped up from Trenchcoat Angel. Without hesitation, Dean hit the accept link.

Trenchcoat Angel: Hello  
ImpalaDriver: Hey.  
Trenchcoat Angel: How are you?  
ImpalaDriver: Good. You?  
Trenchcoat Angel: It was tiring and stressful.  
ImpalaDriver: Sorry to hear that.  
Trenchcoat Angel: So, did you behave yourself once you were offline last night?  
ImpalaDriver: I did.  
ImpalaDriver: Sir.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Don’t use terms that make you uncomfortable.

Dean blinked at the screen. Okay, he hadn’t really felt the urge to call Trench anything, but he’d thought he was supposed to. Pressing his lips together in a frown, Dean typed. 

ImpalaDriver: Thought that was a thing.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Some Doms require it. I know who is in charge. So long as you are respectful, I am indifferent to word choice.  
ImpalaDriver: Okay. Awesome.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Did you go the whole hour?  
ImpalaDriver: I did. It was rough.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Describe what you did for me.

Wiping his lip, Dean took a moment. He wanted to present everything in order. He wasn’t the world’s greatest writer and he preferred watching porn than reading the Penthouse letters, but he’d read more than a few naughty tales. After clearing his throat, Dean went to work on the keyboard.

ImpalaDriver: Well, I had to go outside to get some alone time. It was a nice night, but there’s not a lot of privacy in a motel parking lot. So I got in the backseat of my car and set the alarm on my phone. 

Then he jumped into a long explanation of the things he’d thought about doing with these two mysterious strangers. He had a constant string going for a good twenty minutes before he got down the bulk of what he wanted to tell Trench.

Trenchcoat Angel: Did you touch yourself after the alarm went off?  
ImpalaDriver: Fuck yes. It kinda hurt. Everything was sensitive.

Grinning to himself, Dean continued.

ImpalaDriver: I tugged my jeans down far enough and let my hand do what it wanted. Wasn’t just my junk. I wanted to touch myself all over. Kept picturing a mystery man ‘cause I don’t know what you look like.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Is that exciting? A stranger wanting you?  
ImpalaDriver: Yeah. But coming up with a face got a little old after a while.  
Trenchcoat Angel: I see.  
Trenchcoat Angel: Would you like to meet?

Dean tapped his fingers against the edge of the laptop. Talking online in a chat room was safe and fun. Didn’t have the ring of consequence and reality that meeting up in person. For now, Dean could pretend this was some weird obsession for a few days time. Meeting in person, doing this for real, that would make memories. Stuff he could bury, but unlikely forget. What if these guys were really serial killers?

ImpalaDriver: I don’t even know if we’re near each other.  
Trenchcoat Angel: I live in NYC, but I’ll be in St. Louis the day after tomorrow on business.

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and then ran them through the back of his hair. Decision time.

ImpalaDriver: I could meet you in St. Louis. Want me to meet you at the airport or someplace else?  
Trenchcoat Angel: The airport is fine. ImmortalSin will be with me.  
ImpalaDriver: Both of you, huh. Cool.

They exchanged a few more details. Dean promised to wear his leather jacket, black shirt, and jeans for identity purposes, and he gave Trench his cell number in case something changed. Too often, Dean’s phone number and cellphone changed, so he didn’t mind handing it over.

Trenchcoat Angel: Excellent. I look forward to meeting you.  
ImpalaDriver: Same.

Dean signed off of the chat room after seeing Trench log out. After clearing the history again, Dean tried to get to sleep. His mind kept racing around one clear thought. What was he getting himself into?


	3. Trenches and Burgers

Two days later, Dean sat on a bench in the St. Louis arrival area. He tapped his cellphone against the top of his leg while he waited. The text had promised that their plane had landed. Other passengers had traversed the area. Dean had firm eyes on the baggage claim area.

“Dean?” a low gruff voice asked.

Dean jumped, startled that anyone knew his name and could sneak up on him, and glanced over at the speaker. A man in a tan trench coat and suit stood beside a taller man in a long gray greatcoat. Those were the coats Trench had told Dean they’d wear, but Dean couldn’t believe that these two were the ones from the internet. They were hot. Really hot. Both had dark hair and blue eyes. The guy in the greatcoat looked like he belonged in Hollywood or something. The trench coated man was conventionally good-looking, but it was the intensity of his stare that drew Dean’s attention.

They were simply gorgeous.

Rising, Dean said, “Yeah.” He was the same height as the guy in the greatcoat. He offered out his hand.

“I’m Jack,” the man in the greatcoat introduced, though he didn’t move to shake Dean’s hand.

“Castiel,” the shorter man said. He shook hands with Dean quickly and firmly, then Jack took the opportunity to shake his hand. 

“Um, can I just say, wow,” Dean complimented.

“Of course you can,” Castiel replied bluntly.

Jack leaned down towards Castiel’s ear and said, “He thinks we’re hot.”

Annoyed, Castiel flicked his gaze upwards towards Jack’s. “I understood that.”

Dean coughed to clear his throat. “Right. So. What now? You guys hungry?”

“Starving,” Jack admitted.

“Great. I’ve got my car. I can take you. What’re you in the mood for?”

Glee sparkled in Jack’s eyes, but before he could speak, Castiel interrupted him. “You have to be careful what you say to him sometimes. He’s incorrigible.”

“I like to think that I’m confident about what I want from life,” Jack teased.

“Uh, right,” Dean stammered.

“Wherever you want to go for food is fine with us,” Castiel said. “I have a meeting in a few hours’ time.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Dean promised. “Car’s this way.” He led the way on foot. A shuttle could take them to their parking lot, but Dean wanted to stretch his legs more and get a better feel for what these guys were like before he spent too much time with them. 

As they walked, Jack kept pace a couple steps behind Dean and Castiel. Their long coats flapped in the light breeze and Dean shoved his hands in his shorter jacket’s pocket to keep from appearing too nervous.

“Do you live around here?” Jack asked.

“Naw. Been traveling all over the country. Kansas is more home than anywhere else,” Dean replied. “My brother’s in Chicago checking out campuses. He’s thinking he has a shot of getting back into Stanford.”

“That’s a good school. You looking too?” Jack said.

“For a job. I suck at the school stuff. I’m not a bad mechanic, but I don’t have the official education,” Dean answered. “You two?”

“I play bodyguard for Cas.”

Dean glanced at Castiel.

“I work,” Castiel told him.

“Where?”

“At my place of employment,” Castiel replied gruffly. “The location doesn’t matter.”

Dean slouched slightly while they walked. Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” Jack said. “Cas is kinda important where he comes from. He doesn’t want to take the chance you’re going to blackmail him or something.”

Dean’s cheeks turned bright red. “I wouldn’t do that. You get to know me, you’ll realize how ridiculous that suggestion is.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Jack said.

They reached the car and Castiel slid into the backseat. Once they were settled in, Dean began to drive. He caught sight of Castiel stroking the leather in the back slowly and with just his fingertips. 

Castiel raised his gaze to meet Dean’s via the mirror. His bright blue eyes are intense. “This would be where?”

Before Dean could do more than gulp, Jack snapped, “Road!”

Dean dropped his eyes back to where they belonged and avoided a near collision. He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he muttered to Jack. Then he said to Castiel, “Yeah.”

“Where what?” Jack asked.

“Where Dean punished himself the other night.”

Wearing a coat had been a bad idea. Dean felt too hot now. Especially since Jack couldn’t stop smirking at him.

When they reach the diner, they take a seat in a booth. Jack and Castiel share one side while Dean sits on the other. Both Dean and Jack chose to order burgers. Castiel refrained from ordering anything other than water. “I’m not hungry,” he said.

Small talk fell to Jack and Dean. Both men had seen a lot of travel. Dean related in quick details that his father had hunted the arsonist who’d burned down the family home and killed his mother. That had kept Dean moving his whole life until recently. Now his father had passed away and Sam was looking to move on with his life. Dean honestly didn’t know what to do with his.

Jack traveled for work reasons. Up until Castiel hired him, he bounced from place to place as a bodyguard or mercenary—something of which Dean suspected was a lie—but recently Cas had hired him, so Jack went wherever Cas’s business took them. 

Even though Castiel didn’t say much, he appeared interested in their conversation. He laughed and grinned slightly at appropriate times. Asked a few questions.

When the bill came, Castiel grabbed it before Dean could even look. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel cut him off. “I would have had to pay a driver much more than a meal,” he said. “Allow me to express my gratitude.”

Dean nodded and accepted. Besides, he hadn’t brought much money with him. Just enough for gas and maybe a meal. “Thanks,” he said.

“My pleasure,” Castiel replied. “Will you be able to drive me to my meeting?”

“Yeah. Not a problem.”

“After the bill, we should go. I received a text telling me it’s been moved up.”

“Crap, Cas, you could have said something,” Dean said.

“I don’t mind making them wait. They knew I was arriving today. For all they know, my flight was delayed. I much prefer your company to the meeting anyway.”

Dean’s cheeks turned a light pink and he gulped down some of his water. Castiel paid the bill and they got out of the booth. A nervous giddiness slid back into Dean’s stomach as he followed the pair out of the diner. Okay, even if there wasn’t sex at the end of the day, so far, this had been worth the drive.


	4. A Hotel and Rules

Castiel’s driving instructions took Dean into the downtown business area. Traffic at lunch hour was crowded, but Dean had the confidence of long years on the road. Also, a solid car that could crush the lighter newer vehicles tended to intimidate them that little needed bit. Still, he had new passengers in his car. When he had to turn around a corner too tight and a blare of sirens went up around them, Dean told the others, “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Castiel said from the back seat. “Your driving is superior to Jack’s.”

“Hey,” Jack protested.

Castiel confided to Dean, “We’ve had four different cars in the last year. We have an SUV in the middle of New York City, so that I don’t have to keep replacing the whole thing.”

“Two of those weren’t my fault,” Jack complained.

“Meaning that two of them were?” Dean teased with a smile.

“New York traffic is hell,” Jack argued.

“Yeah, keep it up. All I hear is excuses.” Dean smirked.

Jack huffed and leaned against the door.

Soon enough, they arrived at a parking garage. Jack slid out of the Impala first. Castiel lingered and leaned forward. His first breath tingled against the side of Dean’s neck and Dean had to steady his own breathing. “Are you heading back to your brother tonight?” Castiel asked.

“Uh, not unless I need to,” Dean replied. 

“We have a hotel room,” Castiel suggested. “You could join us.”

Dean’s pulse jumped into his throat. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“I’ll have Jack take you there.”

“Great.”

Once Castiel climbed out, he shut the Impala door. Dean stared out the passenger window. He couldn’t hear more than their muffled tones, but he watched Jack step closer to Castiel and take the lapels of his tan trench coat gently into his hands. Castiel took hold of Jack’s wrists, sliding his hands up Jack’s hands, and then let him go as he stepped back. 

Jack opened the car door and swooped back down into the vehicle. Together, Jack and Dean watched Castiel retreat towards a building door. Even without really looking at him, Dean could tell Jack’s mood had shifted. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Jack sighed, “I don’t trust the people he works for. I think they’re his biggest threat, but he’s convinced of their good intentions. He doesn’t need me today.”

“Sorry,” Dean said. “Guessin’ he told you to take me to the hotel?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it.” Jack ran his thumb over his bottom lip before looking over at Dean. “He would have found some other excuse to keep me out of the building if you weren’t here. At least I’ve got someone to talk to this time.”

“Won’t Cas need a ride after the meeting?”

“Definitely, but he said the cab would have to do until he could get to us.”

“Another innuendo, huh,” Dean said as he put the Impala into gear.

Jack chuckled.

This time following Jack’s instructions, Dean drove to a hotel. The place was swankier than Dean had expected. It even had valet parking, which Jack insisted he could use. Dean tapped his fingers against Baby’s steering wheel and shook his head. “No way. Nobody drives her but me.”

Another laugh burst from Jack. “You going to be this much of a control freak as a sub?”

Dean flushed a deep shade of red. “Hey, there are two things you don’t mess with. A man’s car and a woman’s purse.”

That only made Jack laugh again, but in a good natured way.

After parking the Impala, Jack led the way to the hotel check-in desk. Glory of the internet meant they’d checked in ahead of time, and the clerk even confirmed that their bags from the airport had made it up to their room. Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and felt even more outclassed. As they walked, Jack had the confidence of a man who walked on marble floors and through glassed lobbies as if this was bland, and people turned their heads. They were watching Jack, Dean told himself, with the long swishing coat and the movie star looks. Dean certainly didn’t belong here with his ripped jeans—from wear not because of any fashion statement—and handed-down-from-Dad-mediocre-leather jacket.

Thank God, he’d already had the collar flipped up. Easier to hide behind that way.

They rode up the elevator to the second from the top floor in silence and Dean followed Jack to the right room. The interior was done in the same expensive taste and it wasn’t just a bedroom—Castiel and Jack had a whole freaking suite. The living room of it had a huge flat screen television and Dean glimpsed a king sized bed in the other room. 

Jack slipped out of his coat and tossed it onto one of the living room chairs. “You planning on sceneing with us tonight?” he asked as he rolled up his sleeves.

Dean cleared his throat. “It’d crossed my mind.”

“In or out, Dean. It’s fine either way, but I need to know if you’re committing.”

He had come all this way for a reason. 

Shrugging out of his jacket, Dean laid it onto the same chair Jack had used. “Okay. I’m in.”

“Couple of ground rules,” Jack began. He took a seat on the couch and motioned for Dean to sit down too. Dean opted for the other stand alone chair. “You’ll have to shower before Cas gets back, preferably just before. He’s going to have a stressful day and there’s something about running his fingers through damp hair that relaxes him. He’s big on creating symbols in his head. I don’t try to decipher all of them. Hurts my head too much.”

“Cleanliness is a kink of his?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged. “We’ll wait for him in position. Naked, too, unless that bother you too much.” He plucked the room service menu up from the coffee table. “If there’s anything that makes you uncomfortable, now is the time to bring it up.”

Dean scratched his jaw while he thought. “I’m not in for that humiliation talk,” he said finally. “I’m not anyone’s bitch.”

“Cas doesn’t go for that anyway,” Jack replied. “So, don’t worry about that. Anything else?”

“Not that I know of. This is my first time.”

“Okay.” Jack tossed the menu onto the couch beside him. “We need a safe word for you too. And don’t feel unmanly if you feel the need to use it. It’s a safe word for a reason. If you’re uncomfortable and the word comes to mind, then say it. Don’t try to ‘suffer’ through until it gets better. No one’s going to be upset if you don’t feel good.” Jack frowned and amended, “Actually, Cas’ll get pissed if you’re uncomfortable and you don’t say the word. He takes being a dom seriously and he doesn’t like the idea of using someone for his own pleasure.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Part of that whole guiding a sub, not abusing.”

Jack nodded.

“And I promise. No manly macho bullshit. Does Impala work for a word?”

“Doesn’t sound like anything else, so sure.” Jack dug his cell phone from his pocket.

“Anything else?” Dean asked.

“Think that’s the majors.” Jack stood up from the couch and finished sending a text. “I’m going to settle our stuff in. Go ahead and pick something to watch. We’ve got time to kill.”

Dean took up the remote while Jack took a suitcase from the entryway into the bedroom. Porn was in bad taste—besides spending all day on porn would just rile him up and build way too much anticipation for that night—and he didn’t want to run up Castiel’s room bill. Sure, looked like the guy could afford it, but Dean was a guest. He had a few manners.

So he settled on a bad action movie. The kind with too many fights, and too many guns. When Jack was done, he came back out to the couch and they mocked the terrible fight scenes. Jack had a good eye for gun handling—which Dean ventured to tease about cocking things the right way—and they got into a passionate argument whether Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris would win in a fight. Eventually they had dinner and watched another terrible movie.

All afternoon and into the early evening, Dean could feel a steady tension building. By the time the sun set, he couldn’t sit still anymore.

Finally, thankfully, Jack’s phone on the coffee table lit up with a text. Jack snatched it up. “He’s getting ready to leave the meeting. Shower time. Wanna go first?”

“Naw. You go ahead.”

Jack shrugged and headed to the bathroom.

The last bit of waiting. Dean bounced his foot. Turned the television off and on. Then off again. He heard the shower turn back off, so he tossed the remote onto the coffee table. 

Shower time.


	5. Kisses and Caresses

Jack emerged from the bathroom completely nude. Naked didn’t seem to suit him for a term. He was gorgeous without clothing, and he moved like a man confident and accustomed to wearing nothing in front of strangers. 

Dean felt heat crawling up the back of his neck. He cleared his throat and went for the bathroom, though he did see Jack’s grin. 

Jack had folded his clothes, so Dean stripped and followed suit before jumping into the shower. 

In a few short minutes, Dean showered and toweled off. He held onto the towel for an extra hesitant second before shoving it back onto the towel rack. He would be naked all night; common sense said to leave the clothes off.

Out in the main room, Jack stood waiting by the front door. He gave Dean an approving smile. While Dean had been in the shower, Jack had donned a simple dark brown leather collar. Dean pointed at it vaguely and asked, “Do I get one?”

Jack flashed a cocky grin. “You have to earn it.”

A small pang of jealousy trilled down Dean’s spine, but he couldn’t argue with Jack. Made perfect sense that Castiel would only want to claim subs he stayed with and not some random one night fling.

Following Jack’s lead, Dean knelt down next to him near the door with his hands behind his back and his head dipped. They seemed to get into position mere seconds before Castiel came through the door.

Castiel paused, leaving the door wide open for a moment. Dean prayed nobody would see him from the hallway. Thankfully, Castiel shut the door before anyone could. Castiel reached over to Jack and trailed his fingers through his hair. Jack didn’t budge, though a small smile curved the corners of his mouth.

Then Castiel touched Dean’s hair. Dean mimicked Jack’s reaction until Castiel reached down and lifted his chin with to fingers. “Stand so I can see you,” Castiel said when their eyes met.

Slowly, Dean rose from the floor. Heartbeat thudding away in his chest, he waited for Castiel’s assessment. He could feel Castiel’s eyes begin to roam over him, so Dean decided to make a slow circle. His body wasn’t perfect like Jack’s. More than a half dozen scars covered his body, and he had a tattoo of a star circled by fire on his chest. 

“Beautiful,” Castiel murmured.

The moment was nice. Intimate between them, even if Jack observed the proceedings.

A knock on the door made Dean jump and Castiel laugh. “Go wait in the bedroom. Both of you.”

Dean managed to get inside the room just as Castiel opened the door for room service. 

Jack shut the bedroom door. “He hasn’t eaten all day,” he confessed.

“Why not?” Dean demanded, a note of worry in his voice.

“He was too nervous before the meeting.” Jack made a motion to silence any other questions.

Dean frowned at the door. What kind of business was Castiel into?

Jack’s hand on his shoulder brought him back around. “He shouldn’t take too long.” He nodded at the bed. “Find a position on your knees up there.”

The king sized bed was huge. Dean started to follow Jack’s instruction, when he noticed that Jack was kneeling down next to the door. “How come you’re over there?” he asked.

“Kinda more your night,” Jack replied.

“Castiel tell you that?”

“No.”

Dean glanced across the wide expanse of the bed. He said, “Then get over here.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to order me?”

“No!” Dean said quickly, realizing he was making a mistake. “I’m nervous, okay? Don’t leave me up here on my own.”

Jack got up and climbed onto the bed with Dean. They both had enough room to kneel and wait. Finally, after an eternity, Castiel came into the room. He’d left the trench coat behind in the living room.

Jack kept his gaze on the comforter, so Dean dropped his gaze there too.

Castiel’s steps across the carpet were slow. “Jack, did you suggest this?”

“No, Dean did.”

Dean worked to swallow and keep his breath steady.

Running his fingers through Dean’s hair, Castiel hummed, “Hm.”

“What?” Dean asked.

Castiel sighed in disappointment. “I ask the questions, Dean. Understood?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied though his cheeks colored. He remembered what Castiel had said about respect and corrected himself. “I mean, yes.”

“You were curious about what I found interesting,” Castiel stated.

There was a long pause, so Dean said, “Yes.”

“I might tell you later. But not now.” Castiel trailed his fingers down and lifted Dean’s chin again. He kissed him lightly and Dean shivered. Then he ran his hands gently over Dean’s arms, his back, his chest, the exposed parts of his legs. All the way over, tiny small caresses. It had the mark of ritual, so Dean said nothing. Every once in a while, he couldn’t help a shiver or a flush of his cheeks.

Once done, Castiel moved to Jack. Their kiss was longer. Dean’s mind sparked tiny bursts of jealousy until he told it to stop. After all, Jack had been patient while Castiel had touched Dean. Besides, Jack had to share his master tonight—so Dean decided that he could stow any more jealous feelings for the night. He was the intruder. Invited, sure, but still only temporary.

Also, watching Castiel kiss Jack was pretty hot.

After repeating the touch ritual, though with Jack Castiel’s fingers don’t linger nearly as long, Castiel stepped back. He took the bedroom’s chair away from the desk and maneuvered it into a position from which he could easily watch the bed. He loosened his tie and took a seat.

“I want to watch you play,” Castiel said in a husky voice. Deeper and rougher than earlier that day.

Dean flicked his gaze over towards Jack and wondered exactly what ‘play’ meant.

“You’re not allowed to penetrate each other,” Castiel instructed. “And Jack, don’t put your mouth on his erection. You’re not allowed to make each other come.”

Jack moved first, shifting his weight, and brought his lips to Dean’s in a kiss.

Dean rotated and ran his arms around Jack’s shoulders. Having Castiel as an audience was more exciting than he’d imagined it be. He tried to be flashy and a show-off, groping along Jack’s body and moaning loudly.

In response, Jack groaned and rolled them downwards. He pinned Dean to the bed. Dean’s hands still roamed over Jack until Jack caught his wrists and held them above his head. Dean panted as Jack broke the kiss.

Fabric tightened around Dean’s wrists. Cas hovered over him, intense gaze focused on his own, and secured him with the blue tie. The bulge in Cas’s pants was obvious. At least, then, Dean wasn’t disappointing anyone.

Jack straddled Dean’s hips while Cas kept the tie taut against the bed. Effectively trapped between them, Dean’s breath raced. 

Still staring deep into Castiel’s eyes, Dean dragged the tip of his tongue and teeth over his bottom lip out of reflex. Castiel reached down with his free hand and caressed Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s eyes fluttered for a second. Then Jack’s hands slid along and gripped his waist and Dean’s gaze snapped down to the other man. All of the cheesiness of Jack had fallen away into sheer erotic lust. Suddenly, Dean felt like a piece of pie caught between two hungry mouths.

And he didn’t know which one he wanted to devour him first.


	6. Lips and Fingers

Dean arched up under Jack’s fingers. He started to raise his bound wrists to loop over Jack’s neck, but Castiel still had a firm grip on the tie. His wrists were dragged down to the bed and Dean glanced up at Castiel.

“Keep these here,” Castiel ordered with a press down against Dean’s wrists. Dean nodded. Then Castiel stepped away and Jack kissed Dean’s mouth, then on his throat.

Jack shifted his weight again, pushing Dean’s legs apart as he moved between them.

Dean wondered if Jack intended to break Castiel’s rule, but figured that Jack’s actions shouldn’t get him in trouble, so he didn’t shy away from Jack’s touch. Now Jack's hands roamed everywhere and Dean groaned in agony from not being able to reach out and touch him in return. 

Glancing over, Dean saw the thrill and lust in Castiel’s gaze. Castiel who had been so guarded all day had want and desire written all over his features. Dean smiled at him, arching under Jack’s hands again, before rolling his head back and moaning.

After a few more moments, Castiel interrupted them a second time. He stole Jack, making him get up onto his knees better, and kissed him. Jack slid his arm around Castiel’s waist as their tongues met and Dean lay helpless on the bed underneath, watching everything.

Then Castiel stepped away. This time he had left something Jack’s hands. A bottle of lube.

Jack opened the small bottle, spread some on his hands, and then teased Dean’s entrance. It was cold and uncomfortable at first, though Jack distracted him by kissing his navel. When Dean strained upwards for more contact, Jack laughed against his skin.

Castiel stripped slowly, dropping each item onto the chair where he had been sitting, before crawling onto the bed beside Dean. Jack moved away and for a breathless second, Dean was naked and sprawled on the bed alone. He squirmed slightly with his eyes still locked onto Castiel’s.

Soon, Castiel was naked and Dean couldn’t believe his good luck in finding these two. Like pictures out of some hot magazine.

Castiel stepped over to the bed and lightly ran his fingers down Jack’s spine. Jack turned and they kissed again. 

Then Jack slipped away and for an instant, Dean was sprawled naked and ready on the bed by himself. Completely vulnerable but loving every second.

Slowly, Castiel climbed onto the bed and hovered over Dean. He ran his hands across the other man’s skin in a methodical manner. Dean’s skin practically hummed. “Please,” Dean finally begged.

Castiel grinned, kissed him, and then pressed into him.

Dean moaned loudly.

Their rhythm was slow at first, then built towards a steady and finally frantic pace. Castiel gripped onto Dean tightly, positioning him better and better as they moved until each stroke rubbed against all of Dean.

Even though Castiel didn’t say he couldn’t come, Dean rode the edge as long as he could handle it. His control couldn’t last forever. When he did fall over, he came with a loud, throaty moan. Castiel pushed deep inside him once more and came inside him with a deep moan of his own.

Castiel laid on the bed next to Dean and they panted together.

Dean’s body thrummed with pleasurable electric current. The world felt soft and warm except for Castiel’s hard arm laying across his stomach. Castiel’s breath brushed against the sweat on his skin and Dean let out a “mmm.” 

Before he’d fully settled his breath, Dean glanced over. Jack still had an erection, still watched from the other side of the bed. Dean wasn’t supposed to move his wrists, or ask questions. Was making a request the same thing?

“Cas,” Dean said—realizing he’d shortened the other’s name in his presence, but hell if he could ride him like that, couldn’t he use the nickname instead?—and rolled his eyes to meet Cas’s gaze. “I want to suck Jack off.”

Cas trailed his fingers over Dean’s lips which made him shudder. “Why?” Cas panted, though far less so than Dean had.

“He’s sharing you,” Dean drawled. “He deserves a present.” 

Cas smiled warmly at him and kissed his cheek in affection. “You can, if he wants you to.”

Dean turned his head towards Jack. The other man said nothing, but settled back against the bed’s pillows with his legs wide open. Dean rolled onto his stomach before crawling over to him. They kissed for a moment and then Dean descended. Jack ran his hands through Dean’s hair and his grip began to tighten as Dean worked Jack into his mouth. Considering how lax he still felt, Dean had no problem moving around Jack.

Jack didn’t stay still, and he guided Dean with the grip on his hair. Soon enough, Dean was swallowing Jack down while the other man bit back a groan.

“Holy fuck,” Jack panted. He ran his fingers over Dean’s cheeks once Dean had pulled off of him. Their eyes met and Dean smiled. Jack chuckled with the glory of after-glow and it danced down Dean’s skin.

Cas slid up and pulled Dean back across the bed and into his arms. Dean felt mostly like liquid now, though he the echoes of an oncoming arousal tickled his mind. Cas kissed his throat and shoulder and Dean nuzzled him.

“You are beautiful,” Cas murmured in his ear.

Dean ran his bound hands along Cas’s knee. “You two aren’t so bad,” he teased. He leaned his head up and laid it on Cas’s shoulder.

“Don’t get sleepy, we aren’t done,” Cas promised.

Dean grinned and started to sit up.

Cas let him go. Grabbing Jack’s wrist, he drew him across the bed back to the end. Jack moved to him eagerly. They kissed and the warmth of the room turned back to sizzling heat. Dean rolled, and settled in amongst the pillows to watch.

Jack moved forward and pushed Cas down onto the bed. Chuckling, Cas drew an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “You’ve been very good today,” he murmured. A genuine smile crossed Jack’s face at the words. He kissed him gently.

Hungry for more, Jack deepened the kiss. Cas let him in and moaned. Jack straddled his hips. Gently, Cas put a hand on Jack’s collarbone. He pushed him back. “You’re eager,” Cas teased.

Jack panted and rolled his hips down. Flushing, Cas moaned. Jack put a hand on either side of Cas and slid across him again. “I want you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Cas nodded and withdrew his hand.

Apparently this was a sign of invitation. Jack moved carefully, pushing himself down onto Cas and Dean watched how Cas’s hard-again cock disappeared inside the other man. Even through the post-orgasm haze, Dean could feel an arousal stir in his gut.

The bed barely shifted with Jack’s movements, even as Jack bounced more and more. Expensive bed, Dean realized, and it made the other two’s performance more surreal. In loud, ragged moans, Jack muttered small pleas. Cas didn’t respond to the words. He gripped Jack’s hips tighter and drove upwards to meet him.

Suddenly, Cas pushed Jack up and off him. They rolled, Jack laying on bottom underneath Cas, and immediately Jack tried to push himself back onto the hard cock that’d already been inside. Cas put a firm grip on his hips and held him down against the bed. With a whimpering voice, Jack begged.

Something happened in Cas’s gaze. A kind of possessive fire, a fierce sternness Dean hadn’t seen in anyone before, took over his expression. When Jack’s hips settled some, Cas reached up and ran his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Quiet,” he ordered. “Breathe.”

Nodding, Jack closed his eyes and Dean watched his chest begin to rise and fall more evenly.

“Good,” Cas murmured. His fingers trailed slowly down Jack’s chest. “Don’t make a sound until I tell you to come. Understood?”

Jack nodded again.

Cas slipped back inside him. After positioning Jack better, Cas worked up his pace from slow to fast.

Without the distraction of noise or even the feeling of a moving bed, Dean had only their bodies to observe. Both men had a building tension in their muscles. Jack’s progressed quicker and he panted. His hands scrambled up Cas’s arms to grip his shoulders. They twisted and bucked together. Cas’s breathing became shakier. 

Finally, Cas leaned in closer to Jack. He kept moving, thrusts shorter but deeper, and said, “Now.”

Jack came undone like a coiled ribbon dropped to the floor. He throatily shouted Cas’s whole name, the fullness of Castiel sounding akin to a prayer of absolution on his lips, and clung to the other man. Cas kept riding him until he came to a jerky stop, hands clenched onto him and bliss taking over him too.

They collapsed to the bed together, Cas pulling out gently and cuddling Jack into his arms. 

And now it was Dean who was sitting off to the side with an ache between his legs.


	7. Bliss and Afterward

Nothing in the rules Cas had laid out said that Dean couldn’t touch himself. He carefully pulled his hands out of the tie. Not knowing where to put it—and seeing Cas’s heavy gaze on him—Dean lengthened it and slid it over his head. He slid his hand across his thigh, lightly touching himself, and his eyes fluttered. His skin was still sensitive from before. All over felt so good except this aching in between his legs. Darting his hand across again, Dean moaned.

Cuddled together, Cas and Jack watched him. Jack’s gaze had grown lazy and clouded, but Cas’s intense blue ones followed every one of Dean’s movements. Dean rose onto his knees, parting them slightly so that Cas had a better view. He ran his hands over other spots, places that Jack had found and a couple he hadn’t. Heat rose through his body. His cheeks flushed as he locked gazes with Cas again.

Then he saw Jack’s eyes had refocused. The other man licked his lip and Dean bit his to keep from moaning too loudly. Gracefully, Jack rose and crawled towards him. With a growl, Jack pushed Dean backwards and slid up between his legs.

Dean put his hand on Jack’s lower stomach and stopped him. “You can’t,” he panted. “Cas said we can’t.” 

Cas was moving to a better vantage point. Dean didn’t look over, but he could feel the weight of Cas’s gaze pressing against his skin. So Dean rolled his hips up against Jack and taunted, “You don’t have permission.”

Jack gripped his hips tightly.

“You can’t,” Dean teased with a broad grin. “We can’t.”

“Cas,” Jack groaned. “Please?”

“Yes,” Cas replied.

Jack wasted no time sliding into Dean. Dean clutched at the comforter and moaned, shoving his hips towards Jack. Right out of the gate, Jack set a grueling pace. Dean wanted him that way, begged him to move faster, harder. As Jack complied, Dean moaned louder and louder. The louder Dean moaned, the harder Jack went on him. The cycle built until Dean arched, head thrust back in the pillows, hands clawing beneath him, and he came.

When reality seeped its way through the glowy haze of sensation, someone was running a hand through his hair. Dean glanced up to see Cas smiling down at him. A warm happy smile. Dean goofily grinned back.

“Beautiful,” Cas murmured again. He brushed back Dean’s hair and Dean closed his eyes. Cas continued in a chiding voice, “Oh you know how much I adore you.” Dean frowned, but realized that Cas had meant Jack when he felt the bed right beside him shifting and heard a kiss.

Everything had a slow wondrous beauty during his after glow. Dean eventually opened his eyes and rolled back onto his stomach again. Part of him dimly realized he was covered in sweat and more, but he didn’t care. Cas and Jack were kissing lazily with Jack pinned down to the bed. Dean didn’t care that he wasn’t part of that moment. There was something kind of perfect in their kiss. 

After their kiss, Jack moved over to Dean and pressed their lips together. “Thank you,” Jack said.

“For what?” Dean slurred.

“For sharing yourself,” Cas told him. Then he leaned in for a kiss too. It didn’t have the same feeling of perfection, but it left Dean smiling.

Dean felt like he could pass out. He was tired. Exhausted. All from their play time. The other two didn’t seem so affected. They moved at regular speed while Dean moved through molasses to even breathe.

Cas slipped from the bed and back into his trousers. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. 

And just like that, the perfection of the moment was over. Somehow, everything had a shadow of wrong to it now. Colors weren’t so bright. Light was harsher on his eyes. Sound too much to bear. 

“I can’t believe I did that,” Dean muttered. He ran his hand through sweat drenched hair and he stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m even here. I just took off across the state to hook up with you.”

“I’m glad you are,” Jack said. In a slow movement, he took Dean’s hand and interlaced their fingers.

Dean took his hand back. He sat up quickly which made his head spin. “What the hell.”

“You’re high off it,” Jack told him. He sat up and moved closer to Dean. “It’s normal.”

“Don’t touch me,” Dean whispered. “Don’t.”

Jack pulled back.

“Here we are,” Cas said, striding back into the room with a few wet washcloths. When he saw the change of their expressions, he asked, “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Dean snapped.

Cas neared him, sitting on the bed, and reached out to touch Dean, but he backed away. “You’re still affected.”

“Fine I’m ‘affected.’ But I’m so done with the touching right now! Okay?” Dean snapped. “In fact, I should probably just go already.” He hurried out of the bed and stumbled. The world had spun as he’d tried to stand. What the hell was that about?

Cas caught him by his shoulders and drew him back to the bed. “Dean, stop.”

Dean wrenched away, but Cas put a hand on either cheek and held onto him. “Let me go.” When Cas refused, Dean tried to get out of his firm grasp. “This isn’t me. I’m not like this. I don’t do this kind of stuff. Hell, I don’t even jump in bed with guys. Okay?”

“Dean, stop,” Cas repeated more sternly. “Look at me.”

Slowly, Dean raised his eyes to meet Cas’s.

“What your body and mind are going through is normal. Let us take care of you,” Cas told him.

“Why? You don’t even know me!”

“We’ve shared ourselves with you, and you with us. Our bond is profound, even if it is new,” Cas said. Dean watched his mouth form all the words and suddenly felt tired. “Have we hurt you in any way tonight?”

“No.”

“Do you think we’re going to start now?”

“No.”

“Then trust us a while longer.”

Dean nodded. He shivered and wondered how long he’d been doing that. “I’m cold.”

They moved him, convinced him to climb off of the bed long enough to strip the comforter. There was something about cleaning him up too. Dean lost track of time. When he came to for the second time, Jack had his arms around him and they were cuddled underneath a thick blanket. “Where’s Cas?” Dean murmured.

“Room service came. He’s paying them,” Jack said. He stroked Dean’s hair.

“I was an ass before.” He nuzzled his head against Jack’s shoulder.

“It happens.”

“Still. Mm sorry.”

Jack kissed the side of his head. 

“Why’d I freak out?”

“Side effect. Too many brain chemicals firing,” Jack replied.

“That happen every time?”

“Maybe not to that extreme, but it’s common. It’s referred to as bottoming out.”

Dean shifted so he could see Jack’s face. “But you keep doing it?”

“It’s momentary,” Jack said. “Passes and after care helps reduce it. Cas is great with after care.”

“You in love with him?”

Jack didn’t have the opportunity to answer. Cas came back wheeling a small cart and the smell of food wafted over the room. The smell woke Dean’s mind and he sat up. Bacon, eggs, sausage, waffles, pancakes, orange juice and strangely enough, bottles of Gatorade. A whole buffet seemed to grace the top of the cart. Dean crawled over to the edge of the bed and plucked a piece of bacon.

Fuck, it even tasted awesome.

Dean greedily ate down the first strip. When he went to grab a second, Cas grabbed his wrist. “What the hell,” Dean muttered.

“You need to slow down,” Cas warned. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Okay, slower bites,” Dean recognized. “Got it.”

Only after Cas had scrutinized his face did he let go of Dean’s hand.

Jack finally moved to the edge of the bed too. He looped an arm around Dean while he snatched food with his other hand. 

They ate for a while, Cas and Jack doing most of the talking this time about some book Jack had read. The food was great. Dean hadn’t even realized he’d worked up that much of an appetite. However, once Cas cut him off from eating anymore, exhaustion caught back up to him. He left the other two at the edge of the bed with a muttered goodnight and crawled back to his spot. He was just conscious enough to feel Jack scoot in beside him again. 

Dean cuddled into him and swiftly fell back to oblivion.


	8. Thoughts and Fields

Dean woke the next morning with arms around him and legs tangled. He shifted slightly, which made Cas shift against him, breath running against his throat below his ear. Risking a glance, Dean saw Cas’s relaxed face. Intensity suited Cas, but this view provided something warming too. Something soft, gentle, and kind. Closest thing to an angel he’d ever see, Dean figured.

When he turned his view slightly, Dean could see Jack. He, too, was fast asleep. A smile was on his lips even now. Incredibly cute. 

Dean was trapped underneath them, and morning urges were calling. “Crap,” he whispered and then regretted it. He didn’t want to wake either man, but he needed the bathroom. Gently, he pushed at Jack’s shoulder to try and make him give up his hold, but Jack buckled down more. “Damn it.”

“What’s wrong?” Cas mumbled. That sleep-filled voice tickled Dean’s ear.

Sighing, Dean admitted in a gruff-barely-awake whisper, “I need the bathroom.”

Cas raised his head, moved his own arm out of the way, and glanced at Jack. “He won’t wake. Push him out of the way.”

Dean managed the task—Jack was heavier than he’d expected—and won back his freedom. Once clear of the bed, Dean went to take care of business. He opted for a quick shower too. After he’d finished, Dean slid back into his jeans, shoving the underwear into a back pocket in favor of going commando. Before putting on his shirt, he headed back into the bedroom.

Both men were awake now. Jack had laid his head on Cas’s chest and Cas ran his fingers through Jack’s hair. “That answers that,” Jack murmured when he saw Dean. He closed his eyes again.

“Answers what?” Dean asked softly.

“How long you meant to stay,” Cas replied.

“Oh. I, uh, didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” Dean stammered. “It’s a long drive back to Chicago. Sam’ll be expecting me sometime today. Six hours. Well, more like five if you drive like I do.”

“You’re fine, Dean,” Cas said. “I’ll be in contact with you.”

“Sure,” Dean managed. He fumbled with his shirt, suddenly aware that he was half-naked in front of them. He slid it on. “Awesome.”

After throwing the couple a quick wave, Dean grabbed the rest of his shit—and a couple of pieces of spare bacon left over from the room service the night before—and headed back to the Impala. He didn’t finally relax until he had Baby’s steering wheel back under his hands.

\-----------

Illinois was a mass of soy, corn, and open farm fields. In the long five hour drive, the Impala only had to encounter a few cities and none of them lasted for more than ten minutes. What land wasn’t covered with any of the previously mentioned was just empty open areas.

So Dean only had the tape deck and his thoughts to keep him company for the long drive north. He barely even had other cars to worry about.

In his mind, he wasn’t alone. He replayed the events in the hotel room more than a few times. Even tried to see what Cas might have seen by picturing how it should’ve looked from outside his own body. Dean’s imagination wasn’t the greatest and every time he got to a part when someone had touched him in the right spot, he flushed and remembered how it’d felt.

Great. Now he had a boner to contend with too.

Letting the worries about the future come back to him helped the arousal die down. He’d have to come up with something to tell Sam. Some fake story about palling around with an old friend that hopefully Sam never tried to get a hold of. After all, Dean didn’t actually know anyone in St. Louis. He ought to have felt guilty for lying to Sam, but it wasn’t like he could have told him the truth. Besides being just, well weird, how could have told his baby brother he was driving across a whole state to hook up with two strangers he’d met in a BDSM chat room? Where did that start to make sense?

Where did that start to make sense? Out of the blue, he’d dropped—okay he hadn’t had anything pressing going on—his life and ran down to meet them. Then he’d put himself in their hands and just let them have their way. Dean gripped the steering wheel harder. Had they used him? They were probably laughing about him now.

Dean sighed in frustration. Nothing they’d done could lead him to believe that they were really laughing about him. That was a stupid thought. Now, critiquing and finding him useless, that was something they could be doing. Comparing him to Jack. Deciding they’d never bother texting or showing up in the chat room or calling like Cas had promised, that could be what they’d do. 

Another freaking soybean field. Dean gritted his teeth. How many freaking fields of the same crop was he going to see today?

Eventually, Baby needed gas, so Dean pulled off the interstate at some small town. His phone buzzed at damn near the same time he got onto the exit ramp. Driving and texting could kill, so Dean chose to wait until he’d gotten to the gas station to check his phone.

Like a lot of these exits, the place was little more than a gas station and a few chain drive-thrus. The sign had boasted the name of a town, but the conveniences were what sat next to the interstate. The chain stores were garish, ugly, and dirty. Dean hated using them. If he was going to put up with ugly and dirty, he preferred spending his money at some place that looked like it couldn’t afford to be anything other than ugly. At least then it was out of necessity and not some corporate asshole deciding where to cut things so the profit margin came out in their favor.

So he drove the direction the sign had pointed for the nearest town and went past all the commercial bullshit. Soon enough he drove past a few feet of forest, another field, then another small burst of forest, and then he finally discovered the small town. The gas station ended up being another one of the chain ones, but this one looked tidy and well-kept. Dean pulled into a spot and turned off the car. Only then did he check his texts.

He had a message from Sam last night. “Hey. You coming back tomorrow?”

So Dean replied back, saying he was on his way back now and apologized for missing the text the night before.

The other message came from Cas. Dean debated even opening it. He rubbed his hand up and down his jeans for a second before hitting the read button.

Call me.

Well, that was blunt of him.

Dean frowned at the phone. Did they have more to say to each other? Did Dean care if Cas had something to say? After all, this was probably just a one-night stand. Something he’d forget about in a few days’ time when he moved on.

Still debating, Dean got out of the car and went to the pump. It was one of those that demanded cash purchases be made in the store before filling a tank—the dishonesty of people and the shortness of cash apparently being huge problems in the area—and so Dean had to go into the store first.

Screw it all. He called Cas once he was in the store since the station had those ‘don’t use phones near pumps’ warning signs all over the place.

Cas picked up on the second ring. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean scolded himself for letting that voice send a thrill down his spine and scowled as he examined the store. The usual rows of soda, emergency auto care and first aid-kit, and road food sat primly before a bank of coolers. “Hey.”

“How are you?”

“Fine. Driving.”

“Call me when you stop.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he headed to the back to the coolers for a cold soda. An aisle of sugary treats and beef jerky and random chip assortments kept tempting him as he walked. “I am stopped. I just meant. Well, there’s a lot of driving going on is all I meant.”

“You sound tense.”

“So what if I am?” Dean demanded. “I can be tense.”

“Maybe we should talk later.”

“Maybe,” Dean snapped. 

“Dean, I do care how you’re feeling right now.”

“Well I don’t know why you do.”

“Because I’m responsible for the state of mind you’re in,” Cas said. 

Dean threw open the refrigerator door and grabbed a large cold cola. “You think you’re that important?” Dean growled. “My world doesn’t end and start with you, you know. I have a life. It was one friggin’ night.”

“Dean. Calm down.”

An order. Cas was giving him orders over the phone. Dean slammed the door shut. He would have grabbed a bag of jerky, but that shit was too expensive for the limited cash he had left. So he grabbed an over-sugared apple pie instead. 

Dean still hadn’t answered Cas, so he added, “Maybe conversing today was a mistake.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll call you in a few days’ time.”

“Okay. Awesome.” Dean went to stand in line. Going commando, he realized, had been a mistake. His body felt raw down there, despite the shower, and the jeans were agitating everything. But idiot him had only the dirty underwear in his back pocket.

“I would like to know when you make it back to your brother.”

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll text you.”

“Thank you, Dean. Please, be careful.”

“Right. Have a safe flight home,” Dean grumbled. He shut the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

Great. Now he was getting a wave of guilt on top of the weirdness he couldn’t sort. Fan-freaking-tastic.

After paying for the goods and the gas, Dean went back out to the pump. As per usual, people checked out the Impala on their way in and out of the store. Their eyes roaming over Baby like Cas and Jack’s had over him.

Damn. Was anything going to not remind him of those two today?


	9. A Job and a Call

The Impala door creaked and then shut with a solid thud. Dean had his jacket slung over his shoulder as he dug out the cardkey for the crap motel room he shared with Sam. Said younger brother was lounging in just his boxers on his bed with a bowl of fruit loops watching some crap drama with too many chicks. “Am I interrupting?” Dean asked, even as Sam sat upright again.

“I thought you’d be back later,” Sam said.

“Well, I’m back now.” He tossed his jacket down on top of the dresser. “We moving on?”

“There are a lot of schools in the area.”

Dean threw himself onto the other bed. “Okay.”

“Did you get the job?” Sam asked.

“Total bust,” Dean replied.

“Ah. Well. I’m sure something’ll come along.”

Dean hated that tone in anyone’s voice. Bobby would get the same way. The same ‘well, you tried, I guess, but apparently not hard enough’ tone. Made him feel like total crap for failing. Since he had lied about what he’d been up to this time, he felt even worse.

Dean leaned back on the bed, crossed his arms, and kicked his feet up. He didn’t care about his shoes on the cover—the thing had probably had grosser things lying on top of it.

“Hey,” Sam said, “have you ever thought about going back to school?”

“I’ve only got a GED.”

“So? I’m sure there’s still some good colleges that’ll--”

Dean sighed loudly. “I’m over thirty, Sam. I’m not going to school with a bunch of kids.” He thought about that for a second. “The coeds might be worth it.”

“You’d be the creepy old dude hitting on them,” Sam teased.

“See, you made my point for me.”

“School isn’t about hitting on people. It’s about an education, Dean. Maybe getting a degree can help get you a career.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think racking up thousands of dollars in debt’s going to help my current problems, okay?” Dean swung his feet off the bed and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Out hunting. Again.” Dean’s hand hadn’t gotten any farther than the door handle when he realized he was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. “Son of a bitch.” He turned back around and went for his bag. “Okay. Clothes first and then hunting.”

“Dean, I didn’t mean to--”

Dean wasn’t listening by that point. Whole world probably looked at him as worthless, why should his brother be an exception to that? He slammed the shoddy bathroom door behind him and quickly changed to a fresh set of clothes. Then he shoved the others into the dirty part of his bag and threw the door open.

“Dean!” Sam snapped.

“I’ll be back later,” Dean growled, tossing his bag down and grabbing his jacket. 

\--------  
The afternoon passed into early evening. Evening passed to the next day and the day after. Sam continued touring the schools, getting pamphlets, talking to professors and seeing what he could do about getting into the school’s law programs. Dean scoured the town for places to work, and the next connecting three suburbs. Plenty of places had signs for help wanted, but each one Dean found was crappier than the next. Sure, he still filed the paperwork. Despite the smiles from the managers he met with, Dean had a feeling that once again he wouldn’t get any phone calls from this batch of applications.

Dusk had settled into darkness. The chill had returned to the air as Dean stepped out of the car for the twentieth time that day. He juggled the bags of groceries—mostly snack foods and easy to cook things—and the bag of Chinese take out. 

Over the days, he’d had a lot of extra time to think. When he was alone, when he had the spare time, he’d consider calling Castiel. After two days, Dean was beginning to believe that he would never hear from the other guy. Maybe he hadn’t measured up.

His phone rang as he tried to get the cardkey out of his pocket. One of the bags nearly slipped from his hand. “Damn it Sam, I’m almost in.” Dean pushed opened the door and saw Sam sitting at the table.

And Sammy didn’t have a phone in his hand.

“This isn’t Sam,” Castiel said.

Great. His stellar impression was continuing. “Uh, sorry about that. Give me a second.” Dean set the bags down, putting the Chinese closest to Sam, and waving at it. “Eat up. I’ll be back in in a minute.”

Stepping outside again, Dean said, “Sorry. I made an ass out of myself when I called you. And again, right now.”

“It’s all right. I had a feeling that would be your reaction the other day.”

Dean paced through the lot. “You knew I’d be cranky?”

“You experienced a trauma--”

“Whoa. No I didn’t. I wanted--” Dean interrupted.

“Let me finish,” Cas said firmly. When Dean didn’t say anything, Cas continued, “It was a trauma, more closely related to the kind of experience an athlete endures. You pushed both your body and mind to a strenuous place. Yes, it was for pleasure, but that doesn’t disqualify the toll it took on your body or your mind. Some backlash from both is expected.”

“Jack reacts like this?”

“Don’t compare yourself to him.”

Dean rubbed the back of his head. “I meant, it’s normal. Being a dick afterwards. Because I was twice and he wasn’t.”

“Jack was trained differently,” Cas said quietly.

“Where I kinda skipped the whole after-care training,” Dean muttered.

“You wanted to leave. I had no right to stop you. Sometimes distance is what a person needs.”

“Well next time I’ll stick around for the day after instead of grinding myself through hell,” Dean remarked. He paused and kicked a rock that went skittering across the pavement for a few inches. “If, you know, we have a next time?”

“I will have to ask Jack.”

Dean nodded. “Makes sense,” he mumbled. Maybe Cas was just being a nice guy and he didn’t want to put up with Dean again.

“Because he’s my partner, Dean. It would be rude to say yes without his approval.”

“You a mind reader or something?” Dean teased.

“I am fairly good at discerning disappointment. And you were very obvious.”

“Know me that well already?”

“I might.” A pause. “Jack’s just come home. Let me call you back.”

“Sure.”

The phone call ended and Dean was left in the parking lot waiting. He paced around the Impala before leaning against the trunk again. The food was getting cold in the room, but Dean had eaten cold food before. Would probably do it again frequently in his life. 

"Come on," Dean griped to himself. "Call already."

Suspense gnawed in his gut. How long did Cas need to talk to Jack to get a yes or no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. At over a thousand hits. Thanks to those tuning in.


	10. Life and Alcohol

Dean had about given up hope when the phone came to life in his hand. He quickly answered it. “Cas?”

“Yes. Jack agreed.”

“You’re rather blunt, huh?” Dean chuckled. 

“I don’t understand. You wanted a specific answer, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, Cas. I’m teasing, okay? You were carrying on like our conversation hadn’t, you know, paused or whatever.” Dean sighed and leaned his head back. “I swear I know how to talk like a normal human being.”

Cas laughed, a sound that barely came over the phone.

“Do you have any idea when you want to hook up?” Dean asked.

“Will you still be near Chicago two weeks from now?”

“I dunno. Hard to tell. Sam’s seen most of the places around here and without a job, I don’t really have an excuse to stick around.” Dean kicked another small pebble as far as it would go. 

“I see. We’ll have to keep in contact.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’d like to, you know, keep in touch even if we weren’t going to do it again.”

“I’d like that as well.”

“Great. Awesome.” Dean took in a deep breath and relaxed. “I, uh, should probably go. Food’s getting cold.”

“All right. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night.”

Dean snapped the phone shut and slid it back into his pocket. He reentered the crappy motel room and had to face Sam’s expectant gaze. Right, he needed an explanation for why he took a phone call over food when they both knew he hadn’t eaten all day. “Friend,” Dean said.

“Which one?”

“One you don’t know,” Dean replied as he took a seat at the table. He reached over and grabbed one of the paper boxes and a plastic fork.

“You know people I don’t?”

“I know a lot of people you don’t.”

“Dude, don’t get weird on me,” Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes.

“I just mean, look, when you heard whoever was on the other end, you got excited. I thought it might be good news or something.” Sam stabbed his meal.

“Okay, it was more than a friend call,” Dean admitted.

“You have a girlfriend?” Sam asked in shock.

“No! Hell no,” Dean stammered. He cleared his throat. “Fuck buddy. That’s all.” Stabbing his own meal a little needlessly, he added, “Actually, said buddy’s going to be in Chicago in a couple weeks. Thought I might stick around, see if I can’t get an interview in the area.”

“And have sex,” Sam said with one of those bitchface looks of his.

Dean had to look away from him. Had to stare down at his food and will himself not to feel that crappy feeling in his gut. The one that kept reminding him that Sam was the one who had a life going. Sam had things to do. That Sam’s life had gotten shoved onto hold because Dean had come barging in needing help finding Dad yet again and then everything had gone crazy. Now all Sam wanted to do was get back to that normal life. The one where people as smart as Sammy was excelled at something while Dean would flounder from job to job because that was the kind of man he’d grown up to be. A washout, just like Dad. Had to be what Sam was thinking.

“What good does it do if I put out all those applications and I’m not anywhere nearby when they want an interview?” Dean countered.

“You’re really going to try and stick around here? Get a job here?”

“That mean you’re not choosing any of the schools here?” Dean asked, finally risking a glance up. “You made up your mind?”

“I’m going back to Stanford,” Sam replied. “My professor finally got back to me. He thinks I’ve still got a pretty good shot getting into the program. I won’t get the full scholarship, probably, but that’s what loans are for, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean said and tried not to let the catch in his voice stop him. He cleared his throat. Nodding, he added, “’Sides, lawyer should be able to make that money back easy.”

“Not with the career path I’m hoping for,” Sam said.

“You got a career path already?”

Sam paused again. “I want to work in a prosecutor’s office. Make sure that guys who do what Azazel did go to jail for it.”

Dean stabbed the Chinese food some more and then finally tossed the carton on top of the table. “Dad would have sent him to jail if he could have.”

“Sure he would have,” Sam said with clear disbelief.

“What? He would have.”

“Dad only ever had murder on his mind.”

Dean glared at his brother. “Bastard deserved it.”

“He deserved a fair trial,” Sam argued. “There’s a system--”

“And it couldn’t hold the bastard. You saw it happen. We turned him over to the cops and they let him go,” Dean snapped. “Insufficient evidence.”

“So we should have helped find evidence, not hunted him down like we did.”

Dean stood up and shoved the chair back under the table. “He tried to kill me. You forget that?”

“I’m just saying, if we hadn’t been there, he couldn’t have tried. We cornered him. Of course he was going to defend himself.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Dean muttered. He grabbed his coat. 

“Where are you going?” Sam demanded.

“Out for a drink.”

“With what money?” Sam snapped.

Dean whirled back around. “I’ve got some.”

“We’ve barely got enough to last out the week. What’re you going to do when that runs out?” Sam stood up.

“Get another credit card. What’s it matter to you? Another week and you’ll be back in California.”

“You could come with me.”

“What? And watch you turn into a college duesch? No thanks,” Dean scoffed. “I’ll do you the favor and get out of your hair now.” Without letting Sam get the last word, Dean left the room. He slammed the door as hard as he could, even ended up slamming Baby’s door too, and drove to the nearest bar he could find.

\------- 

The table Dean sat at was sticky. Gross, really. It had names and numbers and symbols scratched all over the wooden surface. When he had first walked into the dive bar, the smell had been overpowering and terrible. But four drinks in—the hard stuff too—and the place had a kinda nice ambience. Low lighting, locals who looked the worse for wear, and one cute bartender.

Something was kinda haunting about the locals though. Dean polished off his latest whiskey and the realization struck him. Ten, fifteen, twenty years from now and he’d look a lot more like them and a lot less like a hot young stud.

Awesome.

The phone rang for the second time. Sam had tried to call him about an hour into his drinking. Dean had chosen to ignore the call. This time around it was Bobby, and he was drunk enough to not care if he got chewed out.

He answered the call, “What?”

“Hello to you too, sunshine,” Bobby said. More awesome, Bobby had his ‘what the hell are you thinking, son?’ tone to his voice already.

“You talked to Sam,” Dean assumed.

“He called. I listened.”

“You can’t long distance broker peace on this one, Bobby. I’m tired.”

“Ain’t we all?”

Dean wiped his eyes. They weren’t wet, but he was exhausted. The booze, the feelings, everything catching up to him all at once. “I’m not going three rounds with you too. Not tonight.”

“You been drinking?”

“Yes. Is that okay?” Dean snapped.

“Just so long as you don’t get behind the wheel.”

“I wouldn’t ever put Baby in danger like that,” Dean promised.

“You’re the one I worry about.”

“As well you should. Pretty sure the Impala’s tougher than I am,” Dean joked and laughed at it.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” Bobby asked.

“Nothing,” Dean lied.

“Bull shit.”

Dean sighed loudly. “I’m not going to cry about my feelings over the phone in a bar.”

“Then leave the bar and tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

Wiping his eyes again, Dean said softly, “I’m tired. That’s all. Tired of everyone’s freaking attitude that I’m a damn loser.”

“No one thinks that.”

“You haven’t been around. You haven’t heard the way Sam’s been talking to me.”

“From what he said, you ain’t exactly been kind to him.”

“How can I be when he treats me like this fucking weight around his neck? Naw. He’s better off leaving for Cali without me and leaving me here.”

Bobby paused for a long while. Dean had thought that the phone had disconnected. As he double-checked the connection, he heard Bobby say, “He’s going back?”

“Yeah. He didn’t tell you? He’s getting back into Stanford. Wants to be a public prosecutor and deliver justice.”

“It’s not bad that he has goals, Dean.”

Dean refused to acknowledge the painful knot in his throat. “Naw, it’s not. Course it would be nice if he didn’t act all high and mighty for having them when other people don’t.”

“There’s gotta be something you want in life.”

“Yeah. Another fricking round and to be left the hell alone,” Dean replied. He sighed past the growing urge. His eyes itched. A lot. Probably the tears starting to form in them.

“Damn if you aren’t the most bullheaded person I’ve ever met.”

“One of my endearing qualities,” Dean said.

“No it ain’t.” Another pause. Dean flagged down the waitress and made motions asking for another drink. She gave him a skeptical look, but went to fetch it. Bobby continued, “You could come stay with me for a while.”

“No way. Not right now.”

“You wouldn’t be a hassle.”

“Bobby, I’m going to be fine. Just need a few drinks and some space away from Sam.”

“Well, I’m going to send you some money at least.”

“No, Bobby. Don’t do that,” Dean complained. “I can take care of myself.”

“And let you sleep in your car for the next week while you wait to see if anyone calls you? Not a chance. You need a roof and the basics. So I’ll be sending it.”

“Bobby--”

“You wanna pay me back? Make peace with your brother before I have to drive out there and knock your two numbskulls together until common sense comes back to you idjits.”

The waitress delivered the drink and Dean paid her with the last few bucks in his wallet. He slid the nearly empty thing back into his pocket. “Fine,” he sighed into the phone. “I’ll call him. But no promises on how well this’ll go.”

“It’s all I can ask.”

Dean tapped his fingers against the table. “Bobby, thanks.”

“No problem, son.”

Then the phone line went dead. Dean closed the phone and held it against his mouth for a second while he thought. Flipping it open, he set made a call to Sam. Strangely, it rang and rang and rang until the voicemail kicked on. “Hey, it’s me. Uh, Bobby called and I’m too drunk to drive. So come bail my loser ass out and pick me up. I’m at Nucky’s on Second Street.”

Now to see if Sam would come.


	11. A Bath and A Phone Call

The drink had been gone ten minutes before Sam walked into the bar. Dean had played with the empty glass for as long as the waitress would let him keep it. Once she’d stolen it away, and he asserted that he was just waiting around for his brother, she’d left. Maybe he was reading way too much into it, but she definitely seemed like she was judging him. 

Sam came in. His brow was furrowed and his nostrils kinda flaring. Dean stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets before heading for him. After handing over the keys, Dean headed for the Impala.

“Can we talk?” Sam asked.

“I’m drunk and tired, but hey, give it a shot,” Dean groaned. They stopped outside the doors of the car. Dean expected Sam to unlock her, but he didn’t. With a sigh, he leaned both arms against the top of the car and stared at his brother. “What?”

“What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing.”

“You haven’t been the same since Azazel.” Sam leaned against the car too. “I’m the one who should be having problems with it.”

Dean scowled. Nearly three months prior, they’d finally tracked the arsonist that had ruined their family. Dean had thought they’d had a confident plan, but Azazel had been anticipating them. Their surprise jump turned into a trap with Azazel standing over Dean, knife and lighter at the ready. If Sam hadn’t found the pistol, Dean would have been gutted and fried crispy. All that training, and it was Sammy who’d come to the rescues and finished the deed.

And just like that, the whole mission Dean had been on damn near his entire life was over. Now, well, what the hell was he going to do with himself now?

“I don’t have problems that we killed the bastard,” Dean said.

“We didn’t do it. I did,” Sam argued. “I took a man’s life and that’s something I have to live with and you aren’t making it any easier.”

“I’m not making it easier?” Dean shouted. “Don’t you get it? I wanted to be the one who did it and I wasn’t.”

“You’re jealous?”

“Yes!” Dean said. 

“Dean, that’s not something you should be jealous about. I took a life. I feel guilty about it every day.”

“You ganked a murdering son of a bitch. I wouldn’t be guilty. I’d be proud.”

“Well I’m not you, Dean.”

“Obviously,” Dean snapped. “Now can we go?”

Sam sighed in that overgrown annoyed schoolboy way and finally unlocked the doors—having to reach across for Dean’s door. Dean plopped into his seat, slammed the door shut and slid down with his arms folded across his chest. 

They drove back in silence. Went back to the room without another word. Dean shed his shoes and jacket and got into his bed.

\----------

Morning crawled into the motel room eventually. The shoddy curtains and blinds couldn’t hold back the sun’s wrath. Light and warmth woke Dean and he fumbled with his eyes screwed shut. The day wouldn’t be ignored. Eventually he rose.

Sam’s stuff was gone. Dean rubbed his eyes and glared around the room a second time. Definitely gone. He climbed out of the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. 

A piece of paper was lying next to his toothbrush. Dean picked it up and flipped it open.

‘Hey. Had an early flight out this morning. I would have told you last night, but you didn’t seem in the mood to listen to me. Call me.’

Dean crunched the paper and tossed it into the trash bin. Then he headed back to bed.

Fuck the day. Fuck the world.

\----------- 

Day after day passed. The solitude suited Dean. He wasn’t in a mood to talk to anyone else. At least, that’s what he told himself. No calls, no texts, no interviews, and with most places in town already applied to, Dean didn’t have much else to do. But what would be the point in moving on? Every place had been turning out the same lately.

On the third night after Sam’s departure, Cas called. 

“Hey,” Dean said roughly.

“Dean. I thought I might have seen you online by now.”

“Yeah, well, the laptop was my brother’s and he left.”

“Ah,” Cas said. A heartbeat passed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Dean lied.

“I’m beginning to believe conversing with you on the phone is a poor choice of communication.”

“Well you don’t have to,” Dean replied with a heavy sigh. “I understand if you wanna, you know, call everything off.”

“Hardly. You have no idea how excited Jack is to see you again. Myself as well.”

“At least I’m good for something,” Dean muttered.

“What was that?”

Dean cleared his throat. “It’s not important.”

“You sound tired.”

“You could say that,” Dean said.

Cas was saying something but Dean couldn’t understand the words.

“What was that?”

“Sorry,” Cas told him. “I had to speak to Jack for a moment. Do you have a tub?”

Dean frowned. “Uh, yeah.”

“Take a long hot bath. Then call me back.”

“What? Why?”

Cas sighed loudly. “Just trust me, Dean.”

“Okay. All right.” Dean grunted as he got off the bed. “Call you back in a while, I guess.”

“Until then.”

Dean ended the phone call and tossed it back onto his bed. “Weird guy,” he muttered.

Still, it wasn’t like things could get much worse. So Dean went to the bathroom and started filling the tub.

While the water worked its way up to hot, Dean stripped. It’d been years since he’d had a bath. Didn’t waste the time on it because he didn’t see a point in it. Showers were way more efficient. But here he was. Listening to Cas once again on some strange instruction. He barely knew the guy. What the hell was he doing listening to some stranger?

After turning off the water—and rubbing his face a few times out of irritation and nervousness—Dean slid into the bath. The water was hotter than he’d imagined at first. He hissed, but settled in anyway. Heat wrapped around him more completely than any blanket could manage. Once he was used to it, it actually felt pretty good. Relaxing. Nice. He slipped underneath the surface a couple times—no easy task for a full grown man—and eventually washed up. By the time he was done, the water had grown cold.

Dean took the last clean towel and wiped off most of the water. His skin felt different. For starters, he could feel the air brushing against him. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed out into the bedroom. It was cooler out there than the bathroom had become. A shiver ran through him and he got under the blankets on his bed.

Cas had wanted him to call back. If the call was going to turn into some over-the-phone-sex thing, Dean didn’t think he was up for it. He could skip the call altogether, claim he’d fallen asleep—which he felt like he could finally do—but it kinda seemed rude. Cas was waiting on him. 

So, pressing his lips together and prepared to tell the guy no if he had to, Dean punched the buttons to call Cas back. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey. All bathed.”

“Good. How do you feel?”

“A crap ton better,” Dean admitted.

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

There was an odd sound on the other end of the line and Dean frowned. “Hey,” Jack said cheerily.

“Uh, hey,” Dean repeated. “What’s going on?”

“I stole the phone. Required some naked wrestling.”

Cas’s voice piped up, “We are not naked!”

“Well, he’s not naked,” Jack corrected. “Anyway, you got HBO?”

Dean reached over and grabbed the plastic sheet off the nightstand. “Yeah.”

“Great. Expendables is on. Statham’s about to break up with Chase.”

“With who?”

“Sorry, Carpenter. She played Cordelia Chase.”

“So the girl.”

“There’s only one girl in this whole movie, Dean,” Jack teased.

“Well excuse me for not knowing her name,” Dean retorted good-naturedly as he turned the television on.

“Huh.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Well,” Jack said—and even over the phone, Dean could swear the bastard was grinning like the Cheshire Cat—“I pegged you as the kind of guy who was into more than one gender.”

Dean flashed a scarlet red. “I know plenty of female actresses.”

“Great. I don’t know many male actresses.”

“Oh my God, Cas was right. You’re impossible.”

Jack laughed. “I’m going to put you on speaker. Someone’s getting jealous that he’s not in on the conversation.” The quality of the call changed slightly. “See, now you know I’ve been suffering.”

“Oh, because you weren’t having fun trying to tempt me while I talked,” Cas drawled.

Dean laid down and closed his eyes. His television was only seconds behind theirs. The modern wonder of technology made the distance between them seem barely there and a great chasm all at once. The conversation turned more towards the movie and Dean watched it along with them. Jack and Dean had to keep telling Cas which actor was which until Cas finally sighed loudly and said, “I give up. These fight scenes are filmed too shoddily. I can barely discern the differences between the men other than skin tone.”

Both Dean and Jack had chuckled and agreed that Cas had had a decent point. “I only know ‘em from their other works.”

“Same,” Jack said.

“This is why I don’t let you choose what we watch,” Cas remarked.

“If we did it your way, we’d be stuck with some romantic comedy,” Jack teased. “Or worse, straight out romance.”

“You like chick flicks?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“I enjoy romance stories,” Cas said tersely. Guilt for the quick judgments forming in his mind washed over Dean. “It’s more beautiful to watch two people falling in love than trying to kill each other. In fact—Jack. What are you. Don’t--” A loud raspberry sound came over the phone and Cas laughed. 

“Sorry, but so not listening to ‘professor’ voice tonight,” Jack explained.

“You’re rude,” Cas admonished.

“So?”

Dean laughed. His eyes closed again. He was getting sleepy and he yawned. “Hey, I think I’m about to pass out.”

“All right,” Cas said.

“Thanks, you know, for this,” Dean said.

“We’ve had a pleasant time too. We’ll see you soon?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. Sleep well, Dean.”

“You two, too.” Dean hung up the phone and turned off the television.

Okay, maybe the entire world didn't need to fuck off.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Keep giving me comments (seriously, negative thoughts will help me improve. Don't be scared of hurting my feelings with whatever impressions you get while reading this!) And hope you'll be back when I deliver new chapters in 2 weeks.

Dean stared down at the phone in his hand for another second. The guy at the window tapped at the glass again. Two days ago, Cas had called and arranged their hook-up. During the call, Dean had promised to obey whatever texts Cas had sent him.

He didn’t know it’d include this.

Another knock at the glass. Dean flipped the phone shut and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket. Then he pulled the key from the Impala. 

This hotel was swankier than the last from the outside. The valet had been standing at his little station until Dean had pulled up. Patient too. Ironic, really, that this guy was waiting to take his car and park it. Like Dean was some bigshot like Cas. That first text had said to use the valet service. So, Dean handed over the keys and got a slip of paper in return. After taking only a step away, Dean turned back and said, “Scratch her and I take it out of your hide.”

The other guy didn’t say anything. He just politely smiled. Fuck, he probably heard that kind of shit often enough. Dean scowled and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

Dean walked into the lobby. Marble floors and high ceilings. A freaking glass chandelier hung down from the center of the room. Light played off the shine of the floor and the well-placed mirrors around the room. A bank of elevators sat at the far end of the space. The view of them was obstructed by a large staircase leading up to the chic restaurant. 

The second instruction was easy enough. Dean headed to the counter with the well-dressed attendant. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. You’re supposed to have something for me. Dean Winchester.”

“Can I see your id?”

“Yeah.” Dean reached into his back pocket and dragged out his wallet. He flashed his driver’s license. 

After seeing it, the woman nodded and pulled out an envelope. She handed it over to him.

“Thanks.” Dean sauntered away, flipping the envelope around in his hand. He didn’t open it until he was in the elevator. The contents were a card key and a slip of paper. A few words read, ‘Make yourself at home. Room 1803.’ Dean pressed the button for the eighteenth floor. The top floor.

He let out a deep breath and flipped the card around in his fingers during the car ride. The elevator was mirrored with more marble for the floor. It matched the lobby. Dean caught a glimpse of himself. Ragged jeans, an okay t-shirt, a plaid overshirt and his Dad’s handed down jacket. And here he was going to the top floor of some fine hotel to hook up with strangers yet again. 

Dad would’ve been disappointed. He hadn’t liked some of the magazines he’d caught Dean once. That had been an unpleasant confrontation. Still flipping the card, Dean sighed. Dad hadn’t been a homophobe, but he hadn’t exactly been happy when Dean had tried to confess the truth to him. 

“Bisexual, Dad. I like girls as much as I like guys,” Dean had told him.

“You just need to spend more time with girls your own age.”

“Dad--”

Dad had leveled his gaze and said, “Dean. We aren’t discussing it any further. And I never want to find you with these again. You understand?” Dad had tossed the mags away.

“Right,” Dean had gulped.

And so while Dad had still been alive, Dean had steered clear of guys when they were hunting for Azazel together. There were times when Dean was left behind, but with Sammy around he couldn’t exactly explore his options. Then Sam had gone away to school, and Dean had gone searching on his own for weeks at a time. Those spare moments alone, he’d had some freedom. 

He’d never dared anything like he was doing now. Two guys? Two guys and a second hook up and some kind of mysterious kink fest going on? Crazy people did this kind of shit.

So why the hell did Dean feel so damn excited by this whole little affair? More alive than he’d felt in months.

Finally, the elevator reached the top floor. He walked out onto the floor. Everything was quiet. The carpet dulled even the noise of his boots. Dean let himself into the suite. 

It was more impressive than the last time even though the outlay was the same. The television looked even bigger. Probably had all the primo channels too. Dean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. Cas had already given him instructions on this bit too. Dean sauntered towards the bathroom. He shut the door and then ran a hot bath.

The place was supposed to be ‘his,’ but Dean still dropped his clothes into a neat pile beside the counter while he waited for the bath to finish running. Once it was ready, he slipped into the water. The instructions had been to take his time, but Dean washed up in a few minutes. The bath felt good though, so Dean reclined against the side and tipped his head back. His pulse was racing. He tried settling his nerves by thinking about anything else. However, his mind kept heading back to Cas’s idea.

When he couldn’t take the anticipation anymore, Dean climbed out of the bath and toweled off. A blue terrycloth robe hung on the back of the bathroom door and Dean slid into it. The material was soft against the freshness of his skin. Damn thing smelled like roses too. Had that been Cas or the hotel? He tied the sash around his waist and padded out to the main room.

The lights had been turned out while he’d been in the bath. Dean took a deep breath and went to the turn the light back on. Nothing stopped him. The lights came back on in the living room and Dean frowned. He would have thought they’d jump him the second he came out of the bathroom.

Of course, he’d expected that and well, the point was to get surprised at some point. 

“So, make myself at home,” Dean muttered to himself and shrugged. He sat down on the couch and turned on the television. With a smirk, he flipped straight to the adult on demand channels. Cas had offered to foot the bill on this one. Might as well take full advantage. 

“12 and 14 but not 13? Seriously?” Dean griped as he scrolled through the choices on Casa Erotica. 12 and 14 were hack pieces compared to 1-7 (also unavailable). Out of the later ones, Dean only appreciated 13. Most of the other choices were complete crap and at first, he skipped past the gay porns on reflex. Then he went back to them. “What the hell,” he whispered to himself as he hit ‘Start’ on one of them.

About half-way through the flick, there was a knock on the door. Wondering what was up, Dean made his way over to the door without bothering to turn off the porn. Room service waited on the other side with a tray. The porn decided to moan loudly at that point. “Can I bring this in for you, sir?” the woman asked.

“Sure,” Dean replied. 

She went straight to the coffee table in front of the sofa and set the tray down. If she noticed the porn, she didn’t let it affect her professional demeanor. When she presented the bill to Dean, he tacked on a few extra bucks and smiled as he handed it back. “Thank you, sir,” she told him before leaving. Dean made sure the door shut behind her and then headed back towards the coffee table.

Before his hand could reach the cover of the tray, someone grabbed him from behind. His arms were yanked back. A yelp had barely escaped his lips when the blindfold closed over his eyes. The material was tied quickly and efficiently.

A hand touched his left cheek before lips pressed against his. That little signal had been set up too. Dean was all for the surprise jump, but a sign that he was getting jumped by the right people had been necessary. Okay, maybe, maybe Cas could have told someone else all the right things to lead Dean into bed with some other stranger. That didn’t seem likely.

The kiss had the roughness of stubble and Dean grinned slyly afterwards. Part of all this would be a guessing game. Cas was the one with stubble though. Easy as pie to tell the difference between them.

Except he suddenly felt roughness against the side of his neck and lips pressing against the spot behind his ear. “Oh that’s cheating,” Dean muttered. “Neither of you shaved? Cheaters.”

A breath of air, maybe a laugh, played against his neck, but neither Jack nor Cas said anything. 

They stripped him of the robe. Dean had his hands back for a second and he reached out to try and find the man who’d been in front of him in the end. His fingers only combed through air, and one of them grabbed his wrist, the other took hold of the his free wrist. Wrists dragged behind his back again, Dean gave a pathetic attempt to wrench free. The grip was solid. Fighting too hard would have meant bruises.

Besides, they were binding him with what felt like the sash from the robe. He should be able to slip that. Only judging from how well the sash fit around his wrists, he probably shouldn’t have underestimated their ability to tie knots. After all, he’d met them in a freaking bondage chat room.

They dragged him to the bedroom—more because he couldn’t see than from any unwillingness on his part. Dean landed on his back, on top of his wrists, and then hands and mouths were exploring him. Blindness kept him from knowing who was where. They took turns kissing him. Dean’s lips grew sensitive quick. Stubble made them feel that much more raw.

Two weeks had passed between encounters. Dean couldn’t remember the way each man moved, not exactly, and it drove him wild. These men, these hands, definitely knew him though. They had no trouble finding those spots they’d discovered. Without his sight, without his hands, Dean didn’t stand a chance. Helpless willing victim to them, Dean bit back another moan.

His legs were spread and fingers coated in lube pressed against him. “Damn,” he whispered with a slight frown as he realized he couldn’t guess who those digits belonged to. A kiss silenced any further complaints. Soon enough, one of them was gently pushing in. Dean relaxed. Concentrated on the feel of the cock inside him.

Someone moved on the bed beside him. Dean twisted his head towards the bend in the bed. “You’re Cas,” he whispered hoarsely. “It’s Jack… Jack’s the one.” Hands grabbed his hips and Dean pushed up towards the cock in him. “You’re longer, Cas.”

A body pressed down against him, a mouth at his ear—the same belonging to the man inside him. “Should I feel insulted?” Jack whispered teasingly into Dean’s ear.

So he’d been right. Dean grinned through the flush crawling on his cheeks. “Someone’s gotta be longer,” he replied. Jack pressed against that spot and he gasped.

Cas chuckled. “Clever.”

Jack moved upwards, off of Dean for the most part, and said, “I thought he’d get it sooner.”

“Jack,” Cas scolded. He took the blindfold from Dean.

Light made Dean squint until he could adjust. Both men were naked, they might have been from the moment everything had started, and Dean flushed at seeing Cas hard. “Watching me get screwed is that good?” Dean teased, trying to deflect the flutter in his stomach with sarcasm.

“You should see what you look like,” Cas mused. He trailed fingers over Dean’s lips even as Jack started moving in and out. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed while Cas’s fingers went farther and farther down, stroking lines along his muscles. “Swollen lips. Lust in your eyes. Gasping. You’re beautiful.”

Dean bit his cheek. No point in arguing the compliments. Besides, Jack moving inside him felt too damn good to care. Dean arched his back, tried to press up against Jack in rhythm. 

Cas reached over and put a hand on his chest. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Dean panted.

Cas’s hand found it’s way up to Dean’s face. Their eyes met and Cas told him, “I don’t want you to come yet.”

“Cas, he’s.” Dean arched again, swore, but Cas’s hand drew his attention. “Fuck Cas. Damn it.”

“Don’t swear.”

“Damn it Cas! It’s good. It’s so fucking good,” Dean moaned. His eyes slid upwards and met Jack’s instead.

Cas dragged his face back over. His tone dropped. Authority and discipline dripped from the syllables. “Don’t take that tone with me.”

Dean bit his bottom lip. He whimpered and panted. “Please. Cas. Please can I?”

“No. Don’t ask again.”

“Fuck Cas. He’s good.” He gasped. “I… I can’t.”

“Try to impress me, Dean.”

With a shaky breath, Dean nodded. He rolled his shoulders back, unable to deny the urge to move with Jack. That quiet needful tension built in his gut. That feeling that would slide over and send him crashing into peaceful amazing oblivion. But Cas had said no. Jack was slamming into him, and Dean had to lay back and try not to slip away. Denying was starting to hurt. He bit his lip instead of begging and twisted his eyes shut in his efforts.

The hardest moment was when he felt Jack come. It wasn’t just the extra sliding around inside him. Jack moaned and even in the sound he was more relaxed. Jack collapsed to the bed beside Dean and jealousy ate away at him. 

“Breathe,” Cas told Dean.

A hot tear burned down from his eye. “Yeah,” he managed.

Cas leaned down and kissed him. “You did well.”

A shiver went through Dean at Cas’s compliment. Something in the pit of his stomach twisted and settled and felt warm. Cas’s eyes were dark pools he could fall into and never resurface. Part of his mind yearned to do that. Lose himself in bed with Cas and Jack forever. But independence rose in a macho demanding way. So he looked away and choked on a sarcastic laugh. “Fucking hurts.”

“Swearing is not all that attractive, Dean.”

“It freaking hurts, okay?” Dean snapped. “Do you expect me to be singing praises about it?”

Cas had a cold look to his eyes. “I have a reward in mind. I had one before we ever began tonight. Unless you’d rather not have it.”

Dean flushed a scarlet red. “I want it.”

“You’ve misbehaved,” Cas pointed out.

“Then punish me ‘til I earn it back!” Dean blurted.

“Roll over.”

That task wasn’t an easy one since his wrists were still bound. The effort he was up to, but he glanced down. Rolling onto the rock hard cock would hurt like a bitch. He tugged at his lip with his teeth again.

“Cas,” came Jack’s ragged voice, “a little heart.”

Cas’s icy glare turned to Jack. “Then help him.”

Jack helped Dean roll onto his side and undid the sash around his wrists. Feeling crawled into his hands again, blood flooding more than it’d had the chance to and causing pinpricks along his fingertips.

“Get on all four,” Cas ordered. “Ass in the air.”

Gulping, Dean obeyed. He glanced over his shoulder as Cas moved to a position behind him. A small filter in his mind prevented him from ridiculing the idea of a spanking. “I should deny you the rest of the night,” Cas said firmly. “I should send you home like this.”

“No, Cas, please. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Quiet,” Cas growled. “Eyes forward.”

Dean turned his head back and gripped onto the blanket. He kept his gaze on the space between his arms when the first smack against his ass came. A second one. A third. They didn’t hurt, not really, but they smarted and stung. Dean’s grip tightened. Punishment was part of the scene and he hadn’t listened. Part of his mind wanted to take the defensive. Cas couldn’t expect him to obey in the middle of sex could he?

Well, he had, and he could, Dean reminded himself. Cas was in charge. The dom. And if Cas had wanted to restrict, Dean shouldn’t have fought him. 

After ten spanks, Cas stopped. “Do you know what lessons you failed?”

“I failed multiple?” Dean asked.

Well, that got him one more on each cheek.

“Swearing!” Dean exclaimed. “I didn’t stop swearing.”

“That’s one. Name another.”

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. More lessons? When he hesitated too long, he earned another swat. “Respect,” Dean groaned.

“You need to work on that still.”

Dean bit his cheek from saying something sarcastic.

“There’s one more,” Cas said.

Dean racked his brain and came up with nothing. Another swat. “I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

Cas leaned forward, saying softly in his ear, “Trust, Dean. Do you think I would ask more than you were capable of? Did you think that the pleasure I would reward would be less than the torment you underwent? Doesn’t obeying what I say deliver that thrill through you?”

“No,” Dean said honestly. When Cas grabbed him by the chin and twisted him so their gazes locked, Dean fell onto his side. Staring up, he drawled, “Pleasing you does.”

Jack reached over and stole a kiss in that moment. Sweet and gentle. Not quite what Dean had expected. After the kiss, Cas lightly lifted Dean’s chin towards him again. “You are amazing.”

Dean grinned and quipped, “You did want me to impress you.”

Cas let out a huff of air, but he had a broad smile. He leaned down and kissed Dean. “Okay, you’ve earned that reward.”


	13. A Reward

Ragged breath pulled from Dean’s lips when Cas finally ended their kiss. With a smirk, Cas reached up and stroked Dean’s cheek as he rested his forehead against Dean’s. “Breathe, Dean,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dean panted. He laid a hand on the back of Cas’s neck and his eyes fluttered shut. His tongue flicked out over his bottom lip.

So far, Cas had explained nothing. Dean held back a whimper at feeling Cas’s hand trail down his neck and shoulder. He didn’t succeed and his cheeks warmed. Willing his eyes to remain shut from embarrassment, Dean focused on tearing his mind away from the small voice condemning him in the back of his mind. He was excited for the reward--more so than he had been about anything else in recent history. Or, damn it, any time in his history. Submitting completely to someone else wasn’t that a man would do, a small part told him suddenly. A man wouldn’t let himself be spanked like a child for imaginary wrongs and he shouldn’t like it.

But he was hard. And excited. And fuck did he want to know what Cas had meant for a reward. Hell, even the smarting sensation from his ass made him feel flush and eager. A sign of affection in a weird way. After all, if Cas didn’t like him, he wouldn’t have bothered trying to teach him better. Dean’s words wouldn’t have drawn the two of them to him. They wanted him and they wanted him eager and pliant.

The voice in his mind began slurring mean words together. Dean’s breath hitched. 

Beside him, Jack shifted on the bed. With green eyes opening again, Dean turned his head towards the other man. Jack slid his hand up Dean’s chest. If Jack was doubting anything, Dean couldn’t see a trace of it. If he’d met him on the street, Dean would have never guessed that Jack was the kind of man who’d submit to Cas. Someone that strong allowed someone else to take control.

As if sensing the swirl of Dean’s inner mind, Jack locked his gaze on Dean’s. He brushed his fingers against Dean’s cheek. “You okay?” he asked quietly. 

Jack had to have visited this same space Dean was in. Had the same thoughts. The same doubts. And fuck it all, didn’t Jack always have the best time in the universe?

A little bit of faith and trust. They hadn’t judged him yet. Why, why on Earth when they were having a good time, would they start now?

“Yeah,” Dean said with a quick nod. “I’m awesome.”

Whatever Jack had been seeking in his eyes, he must have found. A small confident smile crossed his lips and he snagged Dean’s for another kiss. Somehow Cas slipped away from them. One motion led to the next and Dean found himself between Jack’s legs, hovering over him, and Jack’s hand sliding up his still hard cock. Shivering, Dean bit his lip.

The surprise came from Cas. Dean’s attention had been drawn so far forward, he didn’t notice where Cas had gone until he felt a finger pressing into him. Lucky for Dean that he already propped himself up on his arms. The little shock would have sent him tumbling onto Jack otherwise.

A chuckle rose from Jack. The thudding in Dean’s ears damn near swallowed the noise, but he heard the gentle amusement. His face couldn’t grow any redder. Instead his eyes squeezed shut and he bit his inner cheek.

“Dean,” came Cas’s voice.

Dean turned his head to look over his shoulder at Cas. Cas leaned forward for another kiss and Jack reached up to trail hands down his neck and chest. “Breathe,” he chastised again afterwards.

“Right,” Dean managed. After focusing better, he dropped his gaze back to Jack’s eyes.

Smiling broadly—and more than a bit charmingly—Jack rolled his hips up until he brushed all the way down Dean’s length. Since he was holding himself up, Dean couldn’t shift without knocking into one of the others. Jack put his hand on the back of Dean’s neck and used his other one to help guide Dean downward into him.

Cas’s hand didn’t leave Dean’s ass.

Dean worked his way into Jack while Cas’s fingers worked their way into him. Every time Dean had to slip backwards, Cas’s fingers pushed farther in. By the time Cas had opened him, Dean was reminding himself to breathe. He clutched the comforter beneath his hands. “You had this planned?” Dean asked throatily.

“Yes,” Cas murmured. He shifted and made Dean spread his legs slightly more. Jack brought his upwards, angling so that Dean’s legs helped support the widening of his own. 

Jack stole Dean’s lips in another kiss. Cas took away his fingers and Dean winced and groaned into Jack’s mouth. Even though Cas was out of him, he wasn’t moving away. From their angles, Dean could only see Jack. How long would Cas keep him waiting? Dean bit his cheek again as Cas’s hand ran over his still smarting ass. Jack’s fingers reached up and slid through Dean’s slick hair. Dean panted.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas murmured in his ear. His hand reached past Dean and stroked Jack’s cheek. Jack nuzzled against him, the hand on the back of Dean’s neck stroking him ever so slightly. “Both of you.”

‘I’m not’ came to Dean’s mind. He would have blurted the words out if Cas hadn’t slid his hand across his ass like that again. Instead he had to hold back a moan.

“I want to hear you,” Cas whispered in his ear.

The words made Dean twitch and that made Jack gasp. A gasp shouldn’t be so erotic, but Dean was white-knuckling the comforter. He moved in Jack again, wanting to hear him, wanting to moan for Cas, and accomplished both sounds. Cas kissed his cheek and Dean did it again. “Steady yourself,” Cas ordered.

So Dean stopped. Cas was moving, getting into position behind him. Dean pushed his own legs apart more, which in turn moved Jack farther up. Slowly, Cas pushed in. The motion drove Dean further into Jack and both men moaned. Cas panted. His breath tickled the sweat on Dean’s back.

Dean’s body ached to move and he gave into that desire. Pushing forward took him into Jack and going back meant taking in Cas. Back and forth. Neither sensation would fully leave him. Even when he was fully in Jack, Cas’s tip still stayed inside. Dean moaned.

Cas and Jack only remained still for those first few moments. Then as if they’d had some cue, some pre-managed signal—which considering Cas’s plans so far they probably did—they began to move against him together. Cas rolling forward sent Dean into Jack again and Jack pushed up to meet them. Holding onto the comforter, he whimpered as Cas grabbed onto his hips for better leverage. Once Dean caught onto their motion, their rhythm, he found his place in it. 

Jack’s hands had the most freedom and he didn’t pause in using them to his advantage. They slid along Dean’s skin, sweat making them glide. With a soft moan, Cas pushed in deeper and Dean shivered and groaned too. Cas reached around, hugged an arm across Dean’s chest, and kissed between his shoulder blades. 

So much sweat between the three of them flavored the air with something strong. Masculine. Intoxicating. Dean couldn’t get enough of Jack’s moans or the quiet sounds Cas made. His hands left the comforter finally. They found their way onto Jack first. He had skin softer than it had a right to be. Cas’s mouth was at the base of his neck again. The kiss became harder. Teeth and tongue joined in and Cas paused altogether except for his mouth. Dean moaned and his eyes screwed shut again. Jack pushed up, brought his mouth to the other side and echoed Cas. 

One on each side. One in front and one behind. Dean whimpered, hips rocking back and forth a little, and wanted more friction. Both men finished their marks on him at the same time and panted. Dean wanted movement and didn’t wait for them to start again. He moved first into Jack and then back onto Cas in quick sharp succession. Cas caught the rhythm and added to it.

Here he was. Fucking one man and getting fucked by the other. Their hands grabbing him and their voices filling his ears. Dean’s voice rose louder and louder. His lungs burned and his body wanted to buckle from the exertion. The pit of his stomach tightened impossibly down on him. His back became one taut line of muscles.

And he didn’t care. Didn’t care. Didn’t care what normal was anymore.

He fell into oblivion. His mind tasted sweet and dark. Two voices echoed his descent. Ragged breathing around him brushed against his skin in strong, strange patterns. Arms and legs tangled with his body and Dean held onto them as best he could. The welcoming, loving darkness dragged him to its depths.


	14. A Bed and a Boardroom

An arm was wrapped around him and Dean could feel breath play along his neck. A rumbly voice vibrated against the contact against his back. Skin to skin. He was in someone’s arms. He was safe. Nuzzling into the pillow, Dean laid his arm over the other man’s and intertwined his fingers. That earned him a kiss on the back of his neck which made him grin.

“He’s waking,” Cas said from a greater distance.

Dean’s eyes flicked open. Cas sat at the far end of the bed. Disappointingly, he had already donned his dress shirt and dress slacks. Dean frowned at him. “What gives?” he muttered.

“Huh?” Jack asked.

Dean licked his lips, cleared his throat, and tried again. Even in the haze of sleepiness, he knew that Cas hadn’t said anything last night about disappearing this morning. Today should’ve been aftercare. For the three of them. Cas had promised. “Cas. Why are you dressed?”

“I have work.”

Bleary eyed and with slow movements, Dean struggled to prop himself up on an elbow. When the effort became too great, he sagged back down to the bed with a loud sigh. Jack lightly nipped at his ear. “Hn. What about, you know, aftercare,” Dean complained. He snorted at Jack’s nip at his neck, but shifted to give the man more exposed skin.

“I wasn’t expecting to be called away this morning,” Cas remarked. “I apologize for that.” Cas stood and picked up his suit jacket. “You and Jack have each other until I return.”

Jack sat up, abandoning Dean momentarily. His movement dragged away the blanket. Cold air struck Dean’s back. He squeezed his eyes shut from annoyance and huddled into the white sheets as best he could. “I’m not much of a bodyguard if I’m in bed all day,” Jack replied.

So apparently Jack had thought he was leaving, too. Dean buried his face in the pillow. Great. Fantastic. Hooking up with strangers on the internet had loopholes. Who knew? He chastised himself for giving a shit. His hand clenched down on the soft pillow and huffed against it.

“I’ll be fine,” Cas assured Jack.

“This is the second time you’ve benched me on a trip,” Jack snapped. The anger in his voice reminded Dean of the time Jo had run away. She’d showed up at Dean’s motel room and they’d both had to deal with Ellen’s wrath. That’s what it was. The kind of anger one could only have with a loved one. “What the hell are you paying me for?”

Dean peeked a glance at Jack. The other man was tense. A frown dominated his features, but his eyes only displayed worry and concern. Even though neither man was acknowledging him, Dean turned so he could see them better. Normal relationships, arguments between people actually in love--those were the kinds of things Dean only saw in movies. This fight kind of broke Dean’s heart a little. Jack was struggling to keep a whole range of emotions from flying out and Cas couldn’t have been colder if he was an ice sculpture. At least ice sculptures melted.

Cas came around the side of the bed and sat down closer to Jack. “You need to rest.”

“Cas--”

Cas sighed loudly in an impatient way. “We both know that New York is more perilous. I’m in no danger in Chicago.”

“You know, that’s usually the speech someone gives right before something happens,” Jack argued.

“They won’t allow harm to come to me,” Cas told him.

“It’s them I’m worried about.”

Nothing they said made any kind of sense. Their conversation had missing pieces and Dean felt more than a little left out by this point. He tried to fill the gaps himself, but he couldn’t, especially not half-asleep. He frowned and fumbled with the words. “They who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cas said. His eyes ticked over to regard Dean, but they were cold distant blue and more withdrawn than anything Dean had seen so far. His lips remained a stern straight line. “The two of you stay here. Rest. I’ll be back tonight.”

“Cas,” Jack begged.

Cas leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Sleep. You need the rest.”

Jack clutched at Cas’s arm, but Cas pulled away and Jack had to let go of his hold. Dean would have held on tighter. Wouldn’t have let Cas get away so easily. But then, Cas wasn’t his boyfriend. Wasn’t even a friend. Just some guy.

Yet Dean couldn’t help feeling the sore knot in the back of his throat too.

By the time Cas left the hotel room, Jack had laid back down in the bed. He hadn’t snuggled back up to Dean, so Dean took the initiative. The tension in the bed had shifted and it was killing the buzz that permeated Dean’s mind and body. He threw his arm over Jack’s chest, flicked his fingers back and forth over Jack’s side, and finally Jack was convinced to cuddle back. He threw an arm around Dean. “He’ll be okay,” Dean murmured.

Jack sighed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scowling, Dean popped his head up so he could make eye contact. “He said he’d be okay.”

“Cas is a moron sometimes,” Jack said. “He doesn’t see the threat.”

“From the people he works with,” Dean echoed from earlier conversations. “Why’s he in danger?”

“Because the moment they realize what he’s doing, they’re going to get pissed,” Jack said. His hand trailed along Dean’s shoulder. “And these aren’t the kind of people you want to piss off.”

Dean’s frown grew. More tidbits he didn’t understand. “What’s he doing?”

“I really can’t say.”

“Why not?” Dean growled.

“You’re safer if I don’t,” Jack told him.

“You’re freaking kidding me,” Dean huffed. His brow furrowed while he tried to reconcile the little he knew about Cas and Jack. And he was realizing he knew very little outside of preferred movie choices and the touch of their mouths and skin.

“I’m not.”

Suddenly wary and awake, Dean demanded, “What the hell is he into? Drugs? Mafia?”

“God, no,” Jack said.

“But something illegal.”

Jack ran his fingers over Dean’s shoulder and back lightly. While Dean shivered at the little gesture, he was getting pissed that Jack was using it to avoid what he’d said. Before he demanded an answer, Jack pursed his lips and admitted, “What Cas is into, they’re beyond illegal. Beyond the police and beyond the government. These are the kind of people who only answer to themselves. The kind of people who can make someone disappear without a trace.”

Dean bit at his cheek and ran his fingers over the bed’s white comforter. Like the bed, like the pillows, like Jack, it was soft. Softer than anything he’d felt against his skin in a long time. Nicer than anything he’d ever be able to afford. For Cas, all that wealth was coming with a price, it seemed. Okay, he barely knew the other man, but Cas was a good guy. So was Jack. Dean hated the idea of bad things happening to good people. Finally dragging his eyes upwards, Dean met Jack’s gaze. “If they’re capable of that, then would it do any good to be with Cas if they wanted to hurt him?”

Jack shrugged. His eyes clouded with a mist of almost tears, but he didn’t cry. “Can’t go out with him if we aren’t together.”

“Don’t say that.” 

“Oh?”

“Yeah. How are we supposed to mount some kind of crazy rescue or revenge scheme if you’re gone?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “We?”

Holy shit. He hadn’t meant that. Cas was practically a stranger and Dean was offering to go on a fictional mission to rescue or avenge? Well, yeah, damn it. Okay, maybe the slip hadn’t been purely accidental after all. “Yeah, okay, we,” Dean stammered. If he was confident enough to hook up with them, twice, he could admit a bit of truth. “I like you two. Got a problem with that?”

“No.” Jack dragged Dean in for a slow light kiss. Jack’s eyes had a glint in this kind of light. An emotion that Dean didn’t want to think about. After all, Jack didn’t know him. He couldn’t think like that about him yet.

“Good.” Dean settled back down against Jack’s chest. He repeated, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Jack ran his nails lightly down Dean’s back and moaned softly in disbelief. The arguing had stopped though. Wrapped up in blankets with Jack, Dean closed his eyes again. He could feel Jack breathing, the way his hand rested against his back, Jack’s skin under his own hand. If Cas had been in bed with them, this moment would’ve turned out perfect.

But cuddling in bed with Jack? That was pretty damn awesome.

\-----------

Castiel stared at the edge of the glass tabletop caught between his body and folded hands. His head dipped slightly as he scowled. Raphael had been talking--but Raphael was always talking these days--about the coming changes. Everything had to be committed to memory. The network would not risk information leaking through electronic or even paper sources. So over and over, Raphael repeated himself until even the most dimwitted of minds would remember. However, Castiel was one who could recall the information after hearing it once. By the third time, he was bored. When questions were asked to clarify details, Castiel held back frustrated groans.

This meeting in Chicago should have been the next day. Castiel hadn’t even told Raphael that he had come into the city. The other man must have been in contact with the hotel and discovered when Castiel had checked in. Castiel’s company had paid for the room; he had no right to become upset that his arrival had been announced.

Still, Castiel wished he didn’t have to attend an early meeting. He had promised Dean that he would give him aftercare this time and Raphael had made him break his word. Jack could have used some additional care this morning. Instead of freezing in this meeting room, Castiel should have been cuddled in bed with his lover and their temporary addition. The chairs for the meeting were hard and Castiel hadn’t eaten since the previous night. A shred of imagined comfort was all he had.

“And for the Grace of Him we serve, Amen,” Raphael said accompanied by the chorus of other Angels. Even Castiel had said it in the ritualistic fashion signifying the end of a meeting.

Sunlight broke through the clouds and poured through the wall of windows. So far, Castiel had had his back to the city. Now that everyone rose, he glanced over his shoulder. The meeting room belonged to the sixtieth floor of an office building. Cars scurried far below like tiny bees in search of their hives. Castiel stepped closer to the window and stared down. The rustle of the others’ suits as they left the office didn’t disturb him. Raphael approached him with his arms folded over his chest on one side while Uriel came to him on the other. Castiel didn’t bother looking at them to discern them from the others. He could tell from their scent. They smelled of money, of musk, of fine fabric. Uriel always smelled of leather. Expensive, rich leather.

Dean smelled of leather too. Not the new leather that Uriel wore, but the comfort of worn leather. Dean was a combination of familiar leather and an earthy male musk. And Jack. Lord, did Jack smell different than the Angels. Castiel wanted their scents instead of the formal blandness that assaulted his nose now.

“You were distracted, Castiel,” Raphael admonished.

“I knew all this,” Castiel murmured. “You said the same things in Saint Louis. And I was not expecting to be here this morning.”

“You knew you might be called upon.”

“Yes,” Castiel admitted. He finally glanced up at Raphael to see the smug confidence of the leader plastered on his face. Castiel’s eyes narrowed by a fraction. “But you could have told me last night that you planned to move the meeting.”

“Why? Did you have something planned?” Uriel asked with glee in his voice. He had a broad smile and showed too many teeth. His hands were in his pockets. A glint in his eyes told Castiel that Uriel knew more than he had said. That the words had been suggestion. When Castiel refused to rise to the bait, Uriel added, “You brought your toy along.”

Castiel turned, squaring his shoulders to face Uriel while his hands rested at his sides, and said, “We’ve had this discussion. My affair with Jack is not for you to scrutinize.”

“I can though,” Raphael established in his deep voice. Castiel slowly turned towards his leader. Despite the hours of talking, Raphael’s suit hadn’t wrinkled or rumpled. “But I don’t believe Uriel meant your lover.” Raphael had said the last word with a disappointed sigh.

“Then, I don’t know to whom you’re referring.”

“Dean Winchester,” Uriel said.

Spinning to face Uriel again, Castiel scowled. His nostrils flared and his gaze narrowed. “How do you know that name?”

“That isn’t what matters, Castiel,” Raphael scolded.

Uriel only smiled.

“We agreed,” Castiel snapped. “So long as I fulfill my duties, who I take to my bed is my choice.”

“So it is,” Raphael consented. “Remember your priorities and it won’t be necessary to remind you.”

“I remember my duties,” Castiel snapped. Reflexively his hands clenched at his sides. His tone remained even, though. He couldn’t afford to show any more anger to Raphael and he didn’t want to give Uriel the satisfaction that he’d gotten under his skin.

“Should we expect this Dean Winchester to keep hanging around?” Uriel teased.

“Expect that it’s none of your concern,” Castiel replied. “That is my private life.”

“Castiel,” Raphael said warningly.

A rule. Now that he’d been scolded, Castiel remembered the rule. He shouldn’t have let his anger cloud his mind. After all, he knew better than that. They had taught him better. Inside a single morning, he’d allowed visions of Jack and Dean to obscure his focus and now Castiel had grown emotional. Rage did not belong in the mind of an Angel unless it was to protect the network. Anger against other Angels was a sin. A crime. A wrong-doing.

“There is no privacy in God’s work,” Uriel said when Castiel hesitated.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel told them. He frowned slightly and his eyes danced back and forth between the two other men. They bore stern, unreadable looks. This morning had been a test of Castiel’s devotion and he was failing. “They are not a problem. I am committed to our cause.”

“Good, brother,” Raphael said. A small pleased smile broke out on his lips. “Make certain it stays that way.”

Castiel nodded quickly.

Raphael left with sure and confident steps. Castiel’s gaze returned to the street below, even though he could feel Uriel’s eyes tearing through him. Studying him. Discerning truth and fiction from what Castiel had said. After a moment, Castiel demanded, “What?”

“Nothing,” Uriel laughed. The sound crawled down Castiel’s trenchcoat. “I’m surprised you could sit still for so long. Your new dog is wilder than your other pet.”

For once, all that training on controlling his reaction paid off. Uriel didn’t have all the details of his life after all. The thought warmed Castiel in a pleasant way. Not all his secrets were bare to the other Angels. If he was very, very careful, they would never know what exactly what happened between him and Jack and Dean. A small part of his life was hi--the thought was blasphemous and he had to will it away. “You assume too much about my preferences,” Castiel remarked.

Uriel chuckled. A worse sound, really, than the laugh had been. This one slipped under Castiel’s skin and made him cringe. “Castiel, lord of the bedroom.”

“Uriel!” Raphael called.

So Uriel left.

And Castiel was left to stare down at the world below. Alone. In a cold, empty white-walled boardroom. Like so many insects, the traffic moved and yet remained the same. Every second brought new cars in the same patterns. Everything changed only to put new things in old places. And for many of the cars below, this was habit. 

If Castiel had been one of them, he could have called in sick. Missed the meeting. Relaxed in bed with both handsome men. Instead, he’d had to come here and he didn’t know if he could yet leave. He hadn’t been dismissed yet and if he asked, he’d betray his desires again. An Angel kept desires in control. An Angel shouldn’t have them in the first place. Castiel let out a soft sigh through his nose and leaned his head against the glass. When he closed his eyes, he could picture Dean and Jack cuddled together in the bed. One moment of perfection. 

Until he could rejoin them, it would have to be enough.


	15. A Smile and Two Bruises

Following Dean into the shower wasn’t on the acceptable behavior list. Jack wanted to, though. Dean had a great ass, a firm body, and Jack was pretty sure he could con him into shower sex. Hell, from the look Dean had given him when he walked out of the bedroom, Jack was pretty sure Dean had hoped he’d follow.

But Cas hadn’t come back yet. Having sex with Dean with Cas around was one thing. Trying to screw the handsome stranger without Cas’s participation qualified as cheating. The kissing and cuddling would be forgiven. After a night like last night, Cas knew Jack needed physical comfort. Some little contact to remind himself that he wasn’t a piece of meat. He had value. He mattered.

Getting tossed aside this morning, for the second time in two weeks, hadn’t helped re-establish his sense of confidence. Cas always had secret meetings. Usually Jack got to lurk in the parking garages with the car. Instead, Cas had shoved him away to babysit Dean whom they’d discovered from a chat site.

Alone on the painfully bright white sheets, Jack laid back amongst the pillows. His hand drifted up and fussed with his hair while he thought. 

He’d given Cas a whole year. Considering the hellish state he’d been in when Cas had found him, Jack still owed Cas a debt. At least, he believed he did. He’d been unemployed when they’d hooked up and Cas had given him a job, too. Bodyguard. But then Cas benched him whenever he felt ‘safe’ and kinda ruined the point of Jack’s employment. So really, in retrospect, Cas paid him to look intimidating on occasion and get fucked.

With a groan, Jack wiped his hand down his face and reached over for his watch. Cas didn’t treat him that way. Not really. Damn if the bastard didn’t have ice-cold tendencies that matched his suicidal career moves. Robots showed more emotion some days. Cas tried. Normally with some kind of present--like the five thousand dollar Rolex he picked up off the nightstand-- instead of any real emotion. Hey, at least Cas made an effort.

Almost four p.m. Time had flown.

Jack and Dean had lounged around in the bed. They’d cuddled, dozed, found a new position, cuddled some more, and slept some more on top of that. Neither of them had felt like moving. Finally though, Dean had sighed and grumbled that he needed a shower. Jack had pinned him to the bed for a moment, threatened not to let him go, but Dean had leaned up, raspberried his throat, and managed to slip away with the element of surprise. The laugh pouring out of Dean had been one of the most natural things Jack had ever heard. 

On the way out of the room, Dean had shot Jack a look over his shoulder. Jack had played the two seconds in his head a few times now. The pause in the doorway, the long lines of muscles, the mirth in Dean’s eyes. A smile meant just for him.

Fuck it all. Jack had fallen in love.

Not too uncommon for him, really. Everyone had an unique spark to them. Something that made them special. Something that could be loved. Suzie had teased more than once that Jack could fall in love thirty times before lunch--and she hadn’t been completely wrong. His record was only nine.

Jack sat on the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor. He rubbed his face a few times, tiny bits of stubble scratching his hands. A bothersome growth was turning into a full on beard if he didn’t shave soon. Cas’s idea had been a great one, but Jack preferred a smooth face. A beard made him look and feel old. Not like Cas. Without that little bit of stubble, Cas lost about ten years in age. 

“Where’s Dean?”

Jack glanced over. Cas stood in the doorway with his shoes and trench coat still on. The tan material was looking a little tattered these days from the constant wear, but Jack had been wearing the same coat for twenty years, so he didn’t have any room to criticize. Otherwise, Cas was the same tired-looking man he always was, except he was asking about another man after disappearing on both of them that morning. Annoyed, Jack’s brow furrowed tightly and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He stood before answering, not caring that he was naked, and grabbed his bag from the floor. “Shower,” he finally confirmed.

“You’re upset,” Cas said.

“You think?” Jack snapped as he threw his duffel onto the bed.

“Did something happen today?”

Jack clenched his teeth together and shot Cas a dirty look.

Some moments, Jack swore that Cas could read minds. As Cas’s expression changed--well, changed as much as it ever did--to one of concern, he said, “You’re angry that I left you behind.”

“That’s only part of it.”

Cas tilted his head and his eyes narrowed as he thought. Out of everyone Jack had met, Cas was the only one whose eyes narrowed when he got curious and thoughtful. Normally it was too damn cute. Today it was frustrating.

“Damn it, Cas, you came in here and asked about Dean,” Jack said. His hand moved as he talked. “You sideline me and then ask about another man? Am I supposed to be content with that, sir?” The last word had sarcasm dripping heavy in the air.

“You’re jealous because I asked about him first,” Cas said slowly.

Jack wrenched open the bag. Zippers made loud noises while he remained silent.

Cas walked over to him with methodical steps. When Jack refused to look at him, he touched his shoulder and pushed lightly. Unable to stay completely pissed off, Jack turned his blue eyes to meet Cas’s. “You are here and you’re at least physically fine. Dean ran the last time. Knowing if he had left or not would have given me an indication on how you could be feeling.”

“If you wanna know how I feel, ask how I feel. Don’t go the long way around with data collection and assumptions,” Jack told him.

Cas nodded.

“Hey, I am a complete idiot--” Dean said loudly on his way into the room. He had a white bath towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair and little drops made tiny streams along his skin. Upon seeing Cas, Dean froze. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yes.”

“You, uh, you two doin’ okay?” Dean asked.

So the tension in their body language was that evident. Great. Jack sighed and turned his eyes down to the contents of his duffel bag.

“We’re fine,” Cas said for the two of them. 

“I can leave if you need me to,” Dean offered.

“No. Stay,” Jack replied.

“Well if I’m going to do that, I need some pants,” Dean said. He rubbed the back of his head. “I was a moron and didn’t bring my bag up with me. It’s in the back of my car. Could we call room--”

Jack pulled a pair of sweatpants from his bag and tossed them to Dean. Dean caught them in his free hand. “Dude, you’re not going to mind?”

“Mind what?” Jack wondered.

“Me going commando in your sweats. My bare junk rubbing against ‘em.”

Jack quirked a grin and locked his gaze with Dean’s. “Your junk’s been rubbing against me all day. You think I’m going to care about your intimacy with my pants?”

Dean choked for a moment and his eyes widened. “Uh. Right. That would just be silly. I’ll, uhm, be back in a second.” He disappeared from the doorway.

During the whole interaction, Cas had watched the two of them with a close eye. After Dean had left--Jack assumed for the bathroom--Cas turned in that full body movement normal to him and glared at Jack. “Maybe I’m the one who should be jealous.”

Jack sighed and his hand motioned between the two of them. “This is the discussion we’re heading for right now? You invited him into our bed, left us alone all day, and you’re going to get pissed about me flirting with him. Come on Cas. Who don’t I flirt with?”

“You don’t always flirt with that smile.”

“I’m always smiling.”

Cas’s nostrils flared. “That one was genuine.”

“You’re pissed?” Jack scoffed, “Because I smiled at him?”

“It was the emotion behind the smile.”

“Okay, I like him,” Jack hissed and closed the distance between him and Cas. “But considering you found him and dragged him into our lives, I don’t see why you’re angry that I like him.”

“Do you prefer him?” Cas asked hotly.

“Of course not,” Jack told him. He reached down and took Cas’s hands into his own. 

Except Cas pulled away from him. Took his hands away first and then stepped back.

Every time it happened like this. Jack needed that bit of contact. That bit that said everything would be okay. That the argument wouldn’t end what they had and leave him cold and alone again. Yet Cas always moved away. Kept him at arm’s length.

Desperately, Jack snatched one of Cas’s hands and held on tightly. If Cas wanted it back, he was going to have to tug. To show a sign that he was outright rejecting Jack instead of merely avoiding physical contact. With a guilty look, Cas raised his eyes to meet Jack’s fierce glare. “If it came down to you or him, it’s you.” He nodded at the door. “Do I need to tell him to go?”

“No,” Cas said. He let out a pent up breath through his nose and then sighed again on top of it. Then he opened his mouth, one syllable escaped. “I.” Then he frowned and began again. “I find him interesting too.”

“You like him.”

“Yes.”

Jack kissed Cas’s knuckles and then dropped their hands back down. He stepped close again. With a shrug--and in a lowered voice so Dean couldn’t overhear--Jack said, “We could invite him back to New York.”

“That would bring him to the network’s attention.”

“You gonna tell me they didn’t notice him already?” Jack asked. “They knew about Suzie and Samandriel hours after the hookups. It’s been weeks since our first time with him.”

Cas looked down and then back up with a sigh caught between his lips. He did that. Like he was holding his breath to keep from letting exasperation slide out from him. “They did,” he confirmed. “If we continue dragging him into our lives, they’re going to keep a closer eye.”

“Then it’d be better if we brought him in all the way.”

“Jack, we can’t tell him--”

“I don’t mean about the network,” Jack said quickly. “I mean, invite him to come live with us.”

“He’s virtually a stranger,” Cas replied.

“So was I when I moved in.”

“You had no home,” Cas admonished.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You heard him. He’s living out of motel rooms. And from the look of his clothes and weight, you think he’s eating often? How many times do you think he’s used the back of that Impala to sleep in?”

Cas scowled. “What you’re suggesting is highly unconventional.”

“Conventional is boring,” Jack teased.

“I’ll consider it. Let’s see how tonight goes.”

Jack grinned. “Okay then.” He stole a quick kiss from Cas’s lips. “Let’s get out there before Dean runs on us.”

\-----------

Dean sat on the white leather couch--really this hotel was fond of white--and spread the takeout menus he’d just gotten delivered all over the dark wooden coffee table. Almost seemed like colored confetti against the fine table. Cas’s surprise from the night before was still sitting underneath the silver dome and Dean wondered what the hell Cas had ordered. He was also pretty sure it wouldn’t be any good by now so he didn’t care to see what had spoiled. The room was more than a bit amazing with its white leather sofa, matching dark wood furniture, and huge windows. Better to leave the mystery on the table and reveal in the unmarred rich taste of a hotel decorator.

Cas and Jack were still arguing. If he turned on the large flat screen, he’d give away the fact that their arguing was bothering him and he didn’t want to admit that either. Dean bounced his leg and considered dressing in his own clothes instead of wearing Jack’s sweatpants. He glanced out the large window to watch the fading light on Lake Michigan. Sure, the argument could be a holdover from this morning, but Dean had this itchy sensation at the back of his neck. He reached back there, and his fingers brushed against the bruise Cas had left. The hickey. His cheeks warmed as he drew his fingers to the other side where Jack had left his mark. 

Last night had certainly been awesome. Mind-blowing. Hell, he’d needed all day to get his head back together. If he closed his eyes, he could slip back into that moment. Remember how they’d moved together.

His stomach growled louder than the start of the Impala’s engine.

He hadn’t eaten much the day before, or even this week. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, Cas would just foot the bill for the food and not ask for Dean to split the payment. Not the bravest, or most manly, way to go about getting something to eat, but about all Dean could split was a cheeseburger from a dollar menu and that didn’t go very far between three men. Didn’t even go far for one guy.

Still, if Cas and Jack didn’t emerge from the bedroom pretty soon, Dean would have to go. He didn’t have the right to intrude on an arguing couple. Leaning his head back against the couch, he counted in his head. If he reached two hundred before either man came out, he’d change and leave. Thank them for the time and hide out in the Impala for the night or something.

He’d only gotten to forty-two when both of them walked into the living room. 

Jack had a swing in his step. A good energy that was accompanied by a smile. So whatever had happened had ended in his favor. Cas didn’t look grumpy either. Awesome. Everything settled and he didn’t have to leave. The hotel was a lot nicer than the inside of the Impala anyway.

As he walked by Dean, Jack stopped and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I’m going to shower.”

“Can we decide on food without you? I’m starving,” Dean said.

“Yeah. I eat just about anything. No mushrooms, though. Those things are gross.”

“Totally.”

Jack headed into the bathroom with hardly a sound.

Cas slipped out of his trenchcoat and hung it on the back of one the lounge chairs. His eyes flicked up to Dean’s throat with such an intensity that Dean found himself trying to will his lower regions not to react. 

Yeah, his cock was only kinda listening to him. Thankfully, Jack’s sweats were loose enough that his interest remained concealed.

“We bruised you.”

“Yeah.”

Cas came closer and reached out with his fingertips. They brushed over Jack’s mark and Dean’s breath hitched. “You appreciate them?”

“I appreciate remembering how I got them,” Dean replied.

“Did I leave any others?”

Dean’s brow furrowed as he thought. Then, his eyes lit up with sudden realization. “Oh! You mean on my ass. No. Everything’s fine down there. Next time I’ll have to remember all the rules.”

Cas smirked. “Next time?”

“Well, you know, if you guys will have me again.” Dean cleared his throat and ignored how hot the room suddenly felt. Leaning forward, he picked up one of the menus. “I’m kinda starved. We, uh, didn’t get up until a while ago. Haven’t eaten anything. I know the hotel has room service, but Chicago has some great food. Kinda seems a waste not getting some of it, you know?”

Cas twisted his head so he could look down at the menus. “What do you suggest?”

“There is some amazing deep dish pizza.” Dean pointedly didn’t look up as he added, “Kinda pricey though.”

Cas’s fingers played in the hair on the back of Dean’s neck. “I’ll cover it.”

Dean glanced up. Cas’s expression was an odd pleased calm. Not much of a smile there, just the ghost where one should be. “You sure?” Dean asked. Damn the way his voice almost broke. He was a man. He should’ve been digging his last few dollars out and at least making an effort. But if he did that, he wouldn’t have the gas to get anywhere.

“Yes.” Cas withdrew his hand and walked away. He shed his suit jacket and tossed it on top of the trenchcoat. “I have a stipulation.”

“Oh?”

“You have to include something healthy, like spinach.”

Dean made a face. “Really?”

Cas nodded.

“Okay, fine. But can we get breadsticks?”

“Yes. Carbs would be good for you.”

“Well okay then.” Dean leafed through the different brochures until he found a place that sounded good. He tried not to think about how nice Cas smelled when the other man took a seat beside him on the couch. Shifting some, he ensured a slight distance between them. His eyes drifted over to Cas’s lap first, then upwards. Cas wasn’t looking at him. He was reaching for one of the other pamphlets. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Think nothing of it, Dean.” That ghostly smile tugged at his lip.


	16. The Proposal

The pizza, breadsticks, and wings had been devoured. Cas’s white dress shirt had become victim to wing sauce--mostly because Jack had intentionally dropped a wing on his shirt. After all, Dean was in sweatpants, Jack was in boxers, so Cas in his dress shirt and suit pants had been overdressed for the occasion. When teasing hadn’t convinced Cas to strip, the wing had come into play. Not to be intimidated, Cas didn’t take off his shirt until they were done with the meal for fear for the rest of his clothing.

Afterwards, they had settled in on the couch. Cas, in his undershirt and pants, had cuddled into Jack. Dean had taken up a seat on the opposite side. Even though he was inches away from contact with Cas’s leg, he felt farther. They’d found a movie, some chick flick Cas adored, and suddenly that gap felt like the Grand Canyon.

Fussing some, Dean leaned back and crossed his arms. Full, warm, and safe--even if he did feel kinda ignored--Dean’s eyes drooped. Cas reached over and tugged at Dean’s arm. When he glanced over, Cas motioned for him to move closer. So Dean shifted and was welcomed into the big cuddle fest.

Well, that just made him fall asleep faster.

When he woke, he had his head on Cas’s shoulder and Jack’s hand in his hair. Moving stiffly, he stifled a yawn and saw that a different movie had begun. “What’d I miss?” he asked while trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“Guy got the girl. They got married. The usual,” Jack said.

Cas rolled his eyes. “After a year, I had hoped you’d appreciate the differences of plot.”

“It’s pretty much the same plot,” Jack continued.

“What time is it?” Dean asked abruptly.

“Bout ten o’clock,” Jack answered.

Dean shifted away, straightening, and rubbed his left eye again. “I should go,” he said groggily.

“You’re welcome to stay,” Cas offered.

Dean turned to look at them again. They were still cuddled together. A perfect couple sitting there watching him. Despite everything they’d done, Cas and Jack were the item and he’d been on borrowed time. “I should let you guys have some alone time.”

Jack pushed on Cas’s knee. Cas glanced from Jack before he swept his eyes back to Dean. “We’d like to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” Dean echoed.

With a small lift of his jaw, Jack said, “We want you to move to New York City with us.”

“Like move in with you?” Dean joked. Two people that he’d only slept with a couple of times couldn’t want something that serious so soon.

“Yeah,” Jack replied defensively.

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’re not kidding. Move in with you. Dude, you barely know me.”

“We’re perceptive.” Jack stroked Cas’s knee.

“Well, uh, look I’m sorry but, I. I mean I can’t just,” Dean stammered.

“It’s too much,” Cas interrupted. “I understand.”

Jack frowned at Cas.

“May I suggest an alternative?” Cas asked, not paying attention to Jack’s displeasure.

“Uh, sure.” Dean pinched the knee of the sweatpants. He dragged his concentration back up to Cas’s face. “What did you have in mind?”

“Come to New York,” Cas began. When Dean opened his mouth to speak, Cas scowled. So Dean closed his trap. “We’ll help you find an apartment. Employment. I can give you the--”

“I don’t need charity,” Dean snapped.

“Loan you the money then,” Cas suggested. “Enough for two months. By that time, hopefully you’ve found work and you’ll know whether or not you want to pursue a-” He paused as if the next word was foreign. “-a relationship with us.”

“Like both of you at once?” Dean asked. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. People didn’t do this kind of thing. Three way sex, yeah-- people dreamed about the kind of nights he’d shared with Jack and Cas. But a three way relationship? With two men? Fuck, Dean hadn’t ever been with a girl for more than a few months. He crashed at their places. Stayed a couple of weeks. No one had ever invited him to live with them. ‘Sides, the only person besides Dad who had ever given him any money was Bobby and every time he did that, Dean felt more and more guilty. Bobby didn’t have any money either.

From what he’d seen, Cas had the money to spare. Letting him sponsor a fresh start wouldn’t hurt Cas’s bank account.

_A man didn’t accept handouts._

Except what Cas had ended up proposing wasn’t a handout. He’d used the word loan, which meant he’d expect Dean to pay him back eventually. Certainly he could accept a loan. Even if he didn’t know Cas well, getting a loan from a bank wouldn’t differ from this.

Though a bank wouldn’t expect Dean to sleep with it and its partner. Cas hadn’t made that part of the arrangement exactly, but Dean didn’t want a hidden string to bite him in the ass.

Both Cas and Jack stared at him. Jack had a kind of excited puppy grin on his face even though he was trying to hide it, akin to a kid patiently waiting for Christmas and close to failing. Cas had a blank face. Expecting an answer, sure, but Dean had no idea which answer he was wanting. “Can I, can I think about this?” Dean asked. When Jack’s expression fell and Cas’s stayed the same, Dean cleared his throat. “I mean, moving to New York. It’s a big deal. I need to think about it.”

“Hesitation is natural,” Cas concurred. “It’s better to make an informed decision than a hasty one.”

“Uh, right. Thanks for the offer.”

Now, how was he going to get out of this room without making things more awkward? Jack had cooled considerably. Cas’s attitude hadn’t shifted, but Cas could be the world’s greatest poker player with a face like that. Maybe gambling was how he had made all his money, though that didn’t make any sense. Gamblers, in Dean’s experience, tended to lose money, not make crap tons of it.

His thoughts had wandered way off course and the other two kept staring. He cleared his throat again. “I’m going to go change.” And he swiftly stood up from the couch.

The magic had disappeared. The whole proposal had shaken Dean completely out of the little fantasy he’d held all day. Sure, now he had received a formal invitation into something he’d kinda liked earlier that day, but come on, dating two guys? At once? Would it end up being like him dating them as an item or dating them individually? Would he get to be alone with either of them like he was all day with Jack? What would happen if he liked one more than the other? Or if one of them liked him more than their current partner?

Dean slid out of the sweatpants easily and dressed in his own clothes again. The t-shirt had a worn look and would probably have holes soon. Stupid jeans already had holes for ‘style’ and one of them had already stretched. His clothes were falling apart and he couldn’t afford new ones.

He thumbed the jean’s button through the hole and bit his bottom lip. Accepting Cas’s deal just for the money was a worse idea.

Dean wiped his mouth, stubble from his chin scraping the palm, and frowned down at the sink. Then he dragged his wallet out and counted everything in it again. Even though he already knew the contents, he double-checked it.

Fifty-seven dollars.

Damn, that wasn’t much at all. Especially not with the way Baby cost. She was almost empty now.

Shoving the wallet back into a pocket, he grabbed his cellphone from the other one. Dad’s ring clinked against the plastic case. His bracelet slid down his arm in that old familiar way. The everyday sensations helped him focus. Gave him something to think about other than those words his mind dredged up. The words came anyway.

_A man shouldn’t beg for help._

Dean dialed and closed his eyes, shoving a hand against his forehead and willing away the echoes of his father’s voice. Bastard had screwed him up enough. Dead almost three years and Dean still couldn’t shake the sense of worthlessness he’d instilled.

Fuck. He needed a drink. And gas. And food. And clothes. And the money to do any of those things with.

And a potential answer was sitting out there on the couch.

The phone rang and rang. On the fourth ring, Dean moved to press ‘end,’ but heard a sound in time to stop.

“Do you know what time it is, boy?” Bobby demanded gruffly.

Dean’s eyes widened and he said, “I meant to call Ellen--” Each word threatened to break his voice.

“Oh damn it,” came Bobby’s voice and from farther away, he added, “Change your damn ringtone already, woman.”

“And miss you making an ass of yourself?” Ellen teased before picking up the line. “Hey there, Dean.”

“I’m sorry. If I’m interrupting--”

“Oh don’t even start that. You never call anymore unless you’re in trouble. So spit it out already.”

“I’m in a situation that is beyond weird. I need to get my head on straight. Hoping it wouldn’t be a bother if I came out to yours for a few days.”

“Of course not. Haul your ass out here.”

Dean tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and admitted, “I don’t have the money to get there.”

A long pause from the other side of the line tore through Dean. “Honey, I’m sorry, but we don’t have it either.”

Dean stared at the ceiling. He technically had another option. Letting out a long shaky sigh, he told Ellen, “I’ll find a way. I’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”

“Okay, Dean.”

“And don’t keep Bobby up past his bedtime. He’s getting all grumpy,” Dean teased. A jest. A joke. Anything to keep from thinking about what he was going to attempt next.

Ellen gave a dry laugh. “Take care of yourself,” she said with genuine affection. With a little more gruff, she added, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You know me,” Dean replied. “See you soon.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

He turned on the cold water and splashed his face a few times. Then he patted his face with a clean towel. Pausing with the towel over his mouth, he glanced up at his reflection.

_A man doesn’t beg._

“Oh screw it,” Dean snapped as he threw the towel down onto the counter. He wouldn’t ask. Nope. Wouldn’t say a word. Somehow he’d get through, like he always did. A few hours in a bar and he could probably score enough cash. Probably. Assuming he didn’t piss a guy off, have to give the money back, and then he’d wind up way up shit creek without a paddle. Or even a boat.

Running a pool scam was so much easier when Sammy was involved. Dean would never admit it out-loud, but Sam won a stranger’s trust faster. Something to do with empathy. Dean faked it more often. Faked far too much. Sam didn’t.

But Dean only had two choices. Run a scam or ask Cas. Okay, well, four if he added on just stealing what he needed or walking all the way to Bobby and Ellen’s.

Okay. At least he had a plan now. And it didn’t involve begging. He’d make it work.

Dean wiped his hand over his face one last time, fussed with his hair, tugged at his jeans into place again, and then sighed loudly while inwardly scolding himself for avoiding the living room.

Okay.

Okay!

Dean rubbed his hands against the back of his neck and nodded to himself. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then left the bathroom.

Jack had settled farther into the couch. Unfortunately he still didn’t look happy or relaxed. Dean didn’t meet his eyes and only skimmed his gaze over Cas, too. If he kept moving, he couldn’t cave on his decision.

“Dean,” Cas said.

Dean grabbed his jacket, having to move Cas’s suit jacket and trench coat first. “Yeah?” he asked as he flicked his gaze up to the other man.

Cas frowned and his brows knitted together. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Dean replied. He slid his jacket on.

“If we offended you-” Cas began.

“What? No. God no,” Dean said. “It’s nothing to do with you guys.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at that and Cas tilted his head. “Your body language shifted. You’re upset by something. If it’s not us, then what?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s my problem, okay?” Dean said roughly.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice became stern and the gravity of it forced Dean to meet Cas’s gaze. “Please tell me the truth.”

Damn. It.

Dean let out a long sigh. “I’ve got a friend’s place I go to. It’s in New York state. And I don’t have the money to get there,” he admitted.

Cas stood and drew his wallet out of his back pocket. “Why didn’t you ask?”

Dean watched Cas pull bills out of his wallet in a fluid practiced motion. Money. Slips of paper to Cas and everything to Dean. Dean’s throat clenched and tears threatened the corners of his eyes. “I’m not taking your money,” Dean said. His voice didn’t break. Yay for him.

Still holding out the folded bills between two fingers, Cas asked, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t take friggin’ handouts, that’s why,” Dean snapped.

Despite the heat in his voice, the air between him and Cas chilled. Cas still held his hand out, expecting Dean to take the money, and Dean blinked past the burning sensation in his eyes. Not in front of strangers. He wouldn’t lose his pride to some weird affair.

Jack rose from the couch and took the bills from Cas’s hand. He edged around the coffee table to close the distance between him and Dean.

Pointing at the cash, Dean insisted, “I’m not taking that.”

“You are,” Jack said firmly. When he got close enough, he reached around. Dean shifted backwards, but Jack grabbed him by the waistband of his jeans. In a soft tone, Jack continued, “It’s insurance money. That you’re safe until you make a decision.” He slid the money into Dean’s back pocket.

Something in Jack’s voice betrayed kindness and empathy. Dean couldn’t take the money out of his pocket now. It’d be more insulting than Cas insisting he have it.

“I’m gonna pay it back.”

“Fine,” Jack agreed. He brushed a knuckle down Dean’s jaw. “Stay safe. Got it?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Dean muttered. To Cas, he added, “Thanks.”

Cas nodded, even though the confusion didn’t fade from his face.

“I’ll call you in a couple days’ time,” Dean promised.

“I look forward to it.”

“Even if it’s to say no?”

“I hope that you will respond positively, but your answer will be your answer.”

Jack finally let go of him and Dean stepped away. “Drive safe,” Jack told him.

Dean nodded, shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and got the hell out of that room before he burst into tears.

As he slammed his finger against the elevator button a few times, he scolded himself for the overreaction. It was just money. Probably less than he would have tried to rip off someone. A few bits of paper to help him get where he was going. The fact that he was over thirty and unable to provide the pieces of currency for himself didn’t mean he wasn’t a man.

He went into the elevator. After pressing the lobby button, he spun around and slammed his back against the wall. He tipped his head back.

Deep breath. Another deep breath.

His nerves finally calmed. The jittery feeling in his gut settled into guilt and then admonishment. Jack had put the money in his pocket. Dean hadn’t taken it, hadn’t wanted it, but Jack wouldn’t have let him leave without it.

Besides, he had it now. No use getting more upset by it.

The elevator doors opened on the lobby floor and Dean strode out. Confident long strides took him across the marble floor.

 **  
**At least, he told himself they were confident.


	17. The Roadhouse and Air

By the time Dean finished the ten hour drive, he’d made up his mind a half-dozen times, wanted to abandon the idea of talking to Ellen about anything at least a hundred different times, and reaffirmed that his Dad had been an asshole while missing him over a thousand times. At least he knew what Dad would have to say about this whole thing with Cas and Jack.

Dean turned off the highway and into the gravel lot of Ellen’s bar. She didn’t bother having a sign for it--she didn’t need it. The locals knew exactly what kind of place it was and they didn’t want nosy out-of-towners stopping in. The Impala’s door creaked as Dean swung it open and then close again. His boots crunched rocks on his way up to the door.

The clock hadn’t gone much past nine thirty, but Ellen’s truck was already sitting outside the bar. Another one sat outside beside it. Wasn’t Jo’s ride, or anyone else Dean knew. He scowled at the stranger’s vehicle and hoped it belonged to someone who’d gotten a ride home the night before instead of some new person Ellen had hired. 

Dean cheated and headed around to the back door. Ellen usually kept that unlocked when she was in the bar. The door tripped a bell which tinkled cheerily through the quiet space. His boots thunked on the wooden floor, despite his best efforts to keep them quiet. With a sigh, he gave up and plodded past the stock room, bathrooms, the manager’s office, and the kitchen door.

Ellen had her receipts and accounting books spread out along the old wood bar. She frowned at the papers and rested her hand on her forehead. “Hey there, Dean,” she called out without even glancing over.

Dean asked, “How’d you even know it was me?”

“Bobby’s busy at the junkyard and Jo won’t get up until noon without a bucket of ice water these days,” Ellen replied. Her lips made a firm line and she began repiling the papers. “I don’t have time for all this crap. Want to help me with the inventory?”

“Uh, sure,” Dean replied. He slid the jacket off and laid it on a low barstool. Finally he spotted the form on the distant pool table. A sleeping man. He pointed at the table and asked, “What the hell?”

“Oh that’s Ash,” Ellen said as if Ash was a common staple. “When he’s drunk, he sleeps here.”

“And that’s safe?”

“Safer than letting the idiot drive,” Ellen replied. She waved at Dean for him to follow along. They headed to the back store room. The metal shelves had a variety of canned goods left over from the winter supply (Ellen believed in blizzard preparation), some bags of potatoes, onions, limes, and lemons, some cleaning supplies in one corner, boxes of soda syrup, and a few bottles of overstocked booze. She had Dean counting things while she wrote notes on a clipboard. They’d worked for twenty minutes before she sprung the first question. “So. What kind of situation have you gotten yourself into now?”

Dean had knelt down to see if any of the spuds had grown roots yet. He kept his gaze on the far dark corner of the shelf. 

When Dean didn’t immediately confess, Ellen said, “Tell me you haven’t got another pregnancy scare on your hands.”

Dean whipped his head up and motioned while he spoke. “That was one time. Once.”

“You countin’ Lisa?”

“Lisa says he’s not mine, so he’s not mine,” Dean snapped.

“Still think you ought to demand a paternity test on that one,” Ellen replied.

Dean stood. He was taller than Ellen, though he didn’t feel like he got the upper hand with her when he stood straight. Ellen, at least twenty years his senior, four or five inches shorter, with her plaid shirts and her boots, was way more intimidating than him. Used to be scarier than Dad, too. Bobby referred to her ability as ‘the fear of Mother.’ Somehow only moms could pull off that kind of don’t-fuck-with-me-or-mine attitude to the degree Ellen managed.

But at least Dean didn’t feel like a kid when he stood up. “And do what if it came back positive? Pay child support I can’t afford?”

“Be part of his life, Dean.”

“No. Tried that. Me and Lisa, it’s not meant to be,” Dean argued.

“I’m not talking about you and Lisa. I’m talking about you and Ben.”

“Look, he is better off without me, okay?” Dean snapped. “I don’t need to complicate their lives.”

Ellen huffed out an annoyed sigh and rolled her eyes. “You’ve been making that excuse about every girl you’ve been with since you were seventeen. You make yourself part of someone’s life, there’s going to be complications.”

“Wait until you hear the latest.”

Ellen frowned at him. “It gets more complicated than a woman having a kid who looks and acts exactly like you without having met you but she claims he ain’t yours?”

Dean wiped his mouth. “I, uh, met this couple and they want me to move to NYC.”

Ellen’s frown turned skeptical. “Explain that some more.”

“I was in a chat site and got to talking and they wanted to meet up and we did a couple of times and now they want me to move closer to them. See if we can ‘pursue a relationship.’”

“How are you supposed to even afford that?”

“Oh that’s the best part,” Dean added. “One of ‘ems willing to foot the bill for the first few months. Until we can figure everything out.”

“This man and woman,” Ellen started.

Dean bit his bottom lip, dropped his gaze, and shook his head. After clearing his throat, he rolled his hand and said, “Try again.”

“Woman and woman?”

Dean shook his head again.

Ellen’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, Dean! Two men!”

Waiting a few heartbeats, Dean held onto the hope that if Ellen did toss him to the curb, he could probably crash at Cas’s for at least a few nights, even if he wasn’t going to say yes. 

But Ellen didn’t yell any more than that. Didn’t say anything for another long moment beyond that.

“Is that why? With all those women?” Ellen wondered. “Are you gay?”

“What? No! Fuck no,” Dean insisted. “Women are fine. They just happen to both be guys.”

Ellen quirked an eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither.”

For a moment, Ellen watched Dean. When he didn’t add anything, she continued her questions without changing her tone, without judging. “And you’re wondering whether or not to let this guy sponsor a move to New York?”

“Yeah.” So she was okay with him liking dudes. He could breathe easier.

After a pause, Ellen asked, “Well, are they cute?”

Dean rolled his eyes and bit back a smile. “Now you’re going to get all superficial on me?”

Grinning, Ellen left the storage room and held the door open for Dean. “No, but it’s adorable to watch you squirm.”

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and followed along to the kitchen’s refrigerator. “Gee thanks. You know I’m looking for advice here.”

“You can’t lie to me, boy,” Ellen said. She went into the walk-in refrigerator and tallied on her clipboard while she counted. “You don’t want advice. You want approval.”

Crossing his arms instead now, Dean leaned against the doorframe. “That’s not it,” he said with a scowl.

“Uh huh,” Ellen replied with thick disbelief. “Dean, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Sighing loudly, Ellen spun a jar of jalapenos and read the date. “I don’t mean about your little couple issue, I mean with your life.”

Quietly, Dean repeated, “I don’t know.” When Ellen looked up at him, he added, “Used to be simple. Follow what Dad said. Look after Sammy. Except Sammy doesn’t need me and Dad’s gone. What the hell am I supposed to do, Ellen? I’m not good for anything. Haven’t ever held a job down for a few months. Hell, I don’t even have a high school diploma. Do you know how many applications I’ve put out in the last two weeks? The last year? I haven’t gotten squat back for them. I can’t even get a job stocking some place. And you and Bobby,” Dean took a deep breath and ignored the growing hitch in his throat. “You gotta be at your wits’ end with me. So yeah. Maybe I am looking for approval. ‘Cause I’m too big of a fuck up to figure anything out on my own.”

Ellen opened her mouth to speak. She looked like she was working up to full tirade.

“Mom?” Jo called out.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it.

Dean wiped at his eyes quickly to get the excess moisture out. He managed to get most of it before Jo entered the kitchen Thankfully she had a warm smile for him and pretending he was okay became a crap ton easier. “Hey!” she said with sunshine in her voice. “I thought that was your dirty Impala out there.”

“Give Baby a break. We just got in from Chicago,” Dean told her.

Jo’s eyes widened and she laughed at him. “Hiding out from a wild one?”

“What?”

She pointed at his neck.

Dean’s hand reflexively flew up and he wound up slapping the bruise Cas had given him. That left the one on the other side out in plain view. Jo’s smile had only grown. Damn it all, he should have thought about a freaking turtleneck or something. Not that he owned one.

“Oh, uh,” Dean stammered. 

“Dean came looking for a little advice,” Ellen supplied. Her anger had fizzled out with Jo’s distraction. That small smile quirked at the corner of her lips as her and Jo exchanged a look. A mother-daughter silent body language communication. He had seen them do this more than a few times over the years. Every time he had to freaking stand there like an idiot and rack his brain. Usually whatever was silently said resulted in smiles and smirks at his expense.

And here it was. Ellen suppressed a smile. Jo didn’t bother hiding hers.

Dean wiped his mouth and flicked his finger between the two of them. “Okay, what was that?” he demanded.

“What was what?” Ellen said.

“You two had some private joke.”

Ellen smirked and moved past them out to the main room. Jo and Dean followed along. “Oh, it’s nothing,” Ellen explained.

“We had a bet on what would bring you back ‘round again,” Jo told him.

“Oh really.”

“Yup,” Jo said confidently. “Looks like I won.”

Ellen laughed. “You so didn’t.”

Jo slid onto one of the barstools and frowned at her mother and then Dean. “He drove all the way from Chicago in a night for advice about some girl. How is that not what I said?”

Ellen laid her clipboard on the bar and leaned in closer to Jo. “Who said anything about a woman being involved?” she teased.

Jo’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

Suddenly Dean couldn’t breathe. Okay, he could, technically, but he had to fight to pull the air in. Sweat broke out along his skin rapidly and he wiped it away from his forehead while trying to convince his lungs to work right.

Both women stared at him. Jo reached out, took his arm, and guided him to a stool beside her. Woodenly, he sat down. “Dean?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

Jo knew. Ellen had told her. Jo knew. Sammy didn’t. Bobby didn’t. Dad had denied. But now, Jo knew and Dean couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He’d had to admit it to Ellen. He needed that advice. Needed to know what to do. Stupid to think she wouldn’t tell Jo sometime, considering how close they were. But telling Ellen when they were alone was one thing. Her blurting it out to Jo like that. Christ. What if she told Sam? Or Bobby? The two of them were practically married. He’d made a mistake saying anything. He’d made a mistake calling her. Should’ve kept everything to himself. Burned rubber in the opposite direction.

“What’s wrong?” Ellen repeated.

“You told her!” Dean blurted out.

Ellen’s face pinched in anger and annoyance.

“Like I care if you’re gay?” Jo said.

“I’m not gay!”

Something about his voice--the volume or the tone--made Jo flinch. “Dean, it’s okay.”

“It is not okay!” he shouted.

“Dean Winchester, you better calm down,” Ellen scolded. 

If he opened his mouth again, he’d vomit. Bile clung the back of his throat and he put a hand over his mouth. Fuck everything. He couldn’t breathe.

“Mom, he doesn’t look good,” Jo said worriedly.

Dean turned so his back was to the bar and leaned far forward. Vomit belonged somewhere flushable, but he couldn’t hardly move. His throat clenched in a hope to keep from spewing.

“Dean!” Jo cried.

“Relax, mi amiga,” came a male voice. An unknown. Dean twisted and saw that the form from pool table had risen. A scrawny guy with a mullet. Great. He probably knew, too. He clapped his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Looks like someone’s having a mild panic attack,” he remarked. “Close your eyes.”

Dean glared at the man.

“Do it already.” The man--Ash, Ellen had called him Ash--led by example. He closed his eyes.

Fine. Dean could manage that. He shut them tight.

“Okay, man, now, deep breathe in.”

Dean struggled to draw in air.

“Out. And again. In.” A pause in speech while they went through the motion. “Out.” Dean’s world narrowed to the movement of his chest and the fear in the back of his mind. After a few more times, Ash added, “Now. Think of your favorite song. Hum if you got to.”

That he could do. Did do. The notes rang through his throat and mouth. An odd sense of comfort slid over his skin like a blanket.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“What the-” Ellen began.

“Not yet, milady. Patience,” Ash told her.

When the comfort moved past blanket-feeling and more like his mind was on an even ground again, Dean dared to open his eyes. All three of them were staring at him, so he faked a smile. “I’m okay,” he said weakly.

“Get my man here a Bud, please,” Ash said as he took a seat on a stool. “And a PBR for myself.”

Dean turned slowly back around and leaned on the bar.

“You wanna explain what that was about?” Ellen asked as she set a beer in front of him and one in front of Ash.

Ash cracked open the beer. “Obviously he was freaking out because you outted him,” he explained. “Rough thing to do, Ellen.”

“That true?” Ellen demanded.

Eyes pierced through him. Dean couldn’t hide anything from them. At least, with Ash getting the skinny on him too, Dean didn’t feel like he had much privacy at the moment. Frowning at the can, Dean admitted, “Yeah.” When no one spoke, he added, “I haven’t. I mean. Sam doesn’t. Sam doesn’t know, okay? You were the first person I actually told.”

“You’ve spent how much time with him?” Ellen wondered.

“Look, it just wasn’t something that came up,” Dean replied. 

“Twenty-six years together and it never came up,” Jo said.

“No.”

“Well why not?” Ellen asked.

“Because Dad didn’t ‘accept.’ He didn’t ‘approve.’ In fact, I got told very much the opposite. So, no, Ellen, I didn’t think I needed to tell anyone because I was pretty sure I’d never end up as anything more than some guy’s one night stand,” Dean snapped. “I didn’t expect two of them to fricking ask me to move in!”

“You’re dating two different guys?” Jo’s mouth hung open again.

“No!” Dean wiped his mouth and gestured. “Well, yes. But no. They’re a couple. And we’re not technically dating yet.”

Jo turned towards her mother. “You’re right. This is not what I thought he’d come home with.”

“You know what? I’m just going to go.” Dean slid off the barstool and headed for the one where he’d left his jacket.

“Whoa whoa whoa, man,” Ash said. He climbed down from his and rushed after Dean. Slipping in between Dean and his jacket, Ash risked putting a hand on Dean’s chest. When the taller man glared down, Ash didn’t move. “You are far too tense to go driving anywhere.”

“Get out of my way.”

“How ‘bout this. You and I play a game of pool. You win, you can walk out of here and I won’t harass you. You lose, and you talk some stuff out.”

Ash had been sleeping on a freaking pool table when he’d come in that morning. And with that mullet hair and beer-me vibe, he didn’t exactly project an air of competence. “All right. Fine.”

With a grin, Ash led the way over to the pool table.


	18. Insight

The first game went easily in Dean’s favor. So well that when Ash asked for two out of three, Dean decided to go for it. 

Ash cracked the balls on the second round and in a few quick strokes, sunk colored balls into the pockets. Groaning, Dean leaned back against a nearby wall. Ash didn’t get everything in, but Dean didn’t on his turn either. So Ash cleaned up on his second turn.

Casually flicking the chalk over the end of the pool cue, Ash asked, “Wanna go for the third or will you admit defeat?”

“Rack ‘em,” Dean replied. This time he broke them and worked on cleaning up the table. Not pressed for time, Dean thoroughly planned each stroke of the cue. When he was done, he still had a few left on the table, and he’d forced the ball into a place bad for Ash.

“Not bad,” Ash said. He nodded with an overdone frown. “You are a man of intelligence.”

“What? No, I’m not.” Dean shrugged. “I’ve played this game a few times. Hustled, too.”

“You played the angles, left me high and dry, my man. That was skill and mind working together.” Ash pulled off a shot by mere degrees. Dean frowned and Ash grinned. “Cheer up. You still have a chance.”

Dean watched Ash sink more balls. He had a turn, but Ash had put him in a bad position and he didn’t finish clearing his before Ash’s next turn. Another loss in the Dean Winchester bank. “You hustled me,” Dean said. He glared at Ash.

“Thought that was pretty obvious,” Ash boasted. He lifted his chin. “Now. Do you want to disgrace yourself with three out of five? Or will you merely answer questions posed?”

“Why do you even care?”

“We’re both adopted family to them,” Ash said. “You’re like, the prodigal son. Dean, the man they never know quite where he is or what he’s doing until he reappears. And me?” He spread his arms and then pointed over his body. “I’m the drunk cousin they’re concerned for, but not bothered by.” Leaning over the pool table again, Ash kept taking. “Besides, your energies are twisted, frayed, and knotted worse than a cobra fighting a mongoose.”

Dean glanced at the bar. Jo and Ellen had gotten absorbed in prepping the bar and kitchen for the day. “No offense, but it wasn’t your advice I came looking for.”

“I just want to help you find perspective. You can never make a decision without first stepping past yourself.”

Dean leaned on the pool cue. “What?”

“Look at your situation objectively.” Ash gestured broadly. “We are completely unknown to each other. I can tell it to you straight. No hidden agendas. No pent-up emotions. No issues.”

“Okay.” Dean sighed. “Ask.”

“I expect full honesty. Only way this will work.”

“Fine.”

Ash grinned and continued playing pool as he began. “What do you do for a living?”

“I don’t. I hustle pool sometimes. Otherwise I’ve been begging off Ellen and Bobby since Dad died,” Dean admitted.

“Are you currently in a relationship? Got someone special waiting for you?”

“No.”

“Got a home? An apartment some place?”

Dean sighed again. “No.”

Nodding along, Ash made another stellar shot and continued play. “You like these guys?”

“I barely know them,” Dean replied.

“That wasn’t the question. Do you like them?”

That question was loaded. Of course he liked them to a degree. He’d jumped in bed with them, twice. They were great. Jack had a great physicality to him and even Cas’s robotic nature had a strong appeal. Sure he didn’t know them all that well, but dating would solve that. Did he want to date them?

After clearing his throat, Dean said, “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Letting some guy set me up in a place I’ve never been?” Dean said. “Dating a couple? Just isn’t normal.”

Ash flicked long strands of hair over his shoulders as he prepared for another shot. “Normal is vastly overrated, my friend.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

Ash shrugged and made the final shot of the game. “My advice? Sleep on it. Other side of some rest and it will help brighten the picture.”

“Yeah.” Dean ran his hand through his hair. Nodding at Ash, he asked, “How’d you come up with this stuff?”

“I’ve learned to live with the flow. Letting the bad things slide off and letting the good things take me higher.” Ash cleared the rest of the balls for the fun of it. “All a matter of relaxation and finding the zen of the moment.”

“You’re not so bad for a guy with a mullet.”

Ash flashed a grin at him and stole the pool cue back. “Respect’s gotta run both ways, mi amigo.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

With a shrug, Ash put the cues back on the rack and then hopped up onto the table. Dean took it as a sign to head off. Exhaustion wore at him and the fifteen minute drive to sleep on the couch at Bobby’s didn’t seem worth the effort when Ellen had a better couch here. He sidled up to the bar and leaned against it. “Ellen!” he called out into the kitchen.

“What?” she shouted back.

“Can I crash in the office?”

“Fine by me.”

Dean grabbed his jacket and went to the back office. It had a couch underneath the window, filing cabinets in each of the corners, and a small desk with an old wooden rolling chair. The couch smelled of booze and cigarettes since Ellen had had it in place long before the laws on smoking in bars had changed. Dean kicked off his boots and curled up on the couch underneath his jacket. Maybe his head would stop spinning on the subject if he could get some rest.

\-----------

Jack woke when Cas slowly pulled back the covers. Before Jack’s eyes completely opened, Cas slipped up onto the bed and straddled his naked body. Cas pushed their lips together and Jack’s hands fell onto the other man.

Clothes. Cas was clothed. He had on the dress shirt and pants and that blue tie again. Frowning, Jack broke the contact of their lips and pushed upwards on Cas’s chest in order to drive him that small distance away. “You went without me,” he said. “Again.” He glared up at his lover.

“Don’t be angry,” Cas commanded.

Jack’s glare intensified. 

Cas put a hand on either side of Jack’s face. His thumbs rotated in circles once. “Please,” he said. “I wasn’t with the Angels.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Research.”

“About?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Jack moved to shove Cas off, but Cas grabbed onto his wrists tightly and shoved them down by using the weight of his body. Their faces ended up less than an inch apart again. Cas panted onto him and Jack tried not to get aroused by the position. He was angry. Angry and not wanting to send mixed messages.

If Cas kept shifting, even minutely, his lower brain would stop listening to the commands he sent to it. Already the scent of the man made it hard to stay pissed.

“Why not?” Jack growled.

“I have to protect you. The less you know, the better.” 

“You’re protecting yourself. Not me.”

“Fine. I’m protecting us.”

“You know, you could have just stripped and gotten back into bed. I wouldn’t have known the difference,” Jack said.

Cas eased his grip on Jack’s wrists. “I prefer it when you take my clothes off.”

Jack sat up. In perfect unison, Cas moved with him. Both upright again, Cas settled onto Jack’s lap. Cas’s eyes were as bright as summer sky while Jack’s had darkened deep as midnight. That always happened when they fought. Shifting moods shifted colors. 

He ached to throw Cas out of his life and pin him to the bed at the same time. Frowning, he confessed, “You can’t keep doing this to me.”

Cas’s head tilted. If they hadn’t been fighting, Jack would have smothered those lips in a kiss.

Jack swallowed the knot in his throat. “We’ve been together a year and some days it’s like I’m a convenient toy to you. You hire me to be a bodyguard and then run all over the place without me. You make up for it by buying presents I don’t need and keeping secrets that could kill us both. We could be letting someone else into our lives soon. Someone who knows even less about the Apocalypse than I do. How can I protect him and you if you don’t tell me anything?”

“You hide things from me,” Cas murmured.

“I hide my past,” Jack replied. “You hide our future.”

Cas dropped his gaze to the white bedsheets. A perfect stillness came over him. The same kind of stillness that happened when he tried to remember what he had written on a forgotten grocery list or when he was making a decision between which well-loved movie to watch. Finally, he flicked his eyes back to Jack’s. With his head dipped slightly down, despite his age, Cas looked innocent. “One day, I’ll tell you everything,” Cas promised. He rose up on his knees and gained a height advantage over Jack. Naturally, his hands reached up to cup Jack’s face and Jack drew his arms around him. “When I know everything, when I know what to do, I will tell you. That is all I can say for now.”

Over the years, people had used Jack. Jack had used others. Promises were easy. Words only cost the breath needed to expel them. Between his various jobs, he had heard every kind of lie possible. He’d invented more than a few of them himself. 

In their year together, Cas had never broken any vow. Never outright lied to him. Hiding things, lies of omission--Jack was guilty of those things himself. More so with other lovers than with Cas. Still, every relationship could have its first. This could be Cas’s first lie.

So Jack did what he always did. He cheated.

He spun them fast as he could. Cas landed on the soft bed with a thump and Jack hovered over him. Their body contact never stopped. Instead, Cas had dropped one hand to Jack’s shoulder and the other to the back of his neck while Jack’s hips pushed Cas’s legs apart. Jack steadied himself with one hand supporting him on the bed. With his eyes locked on Cas’s, he reached down and undid Cas’s black leather belt. Once he’d undone the zipper, he slid his hand in and underneath the underwear.

Cas didn’t break his gaze. Didn’t shift away. He simply gasped when Jack put a hand around him. 

“Promise again,” Jack whispered.

“I will tell you everything,” Cas said immediately. He stroked the back of Jack’s neck as Jack stroked him. “You’re my partner. I won’t hide the truth when I learn all of it.”

Jack kissed him. Once on the lips where he lingered, then on the jaw, then the neck. He drew Cas’s growing arousal free enough from his underwear and pants and then shifted his weight. Before he could move his mouth an inch lower, Cas grabbed his hair firmly and uttered, “No.”

Brows knitted together, Jack threw his gaze back to Cas’s. “What?”

“You plan on using your body. As a lie detector.” 

Surprised at Cas’s insight, Jack’s brows lifted.

“Bodies are temples, not tools,” Cas told him. While Jack was still dazed, he shifted them again, pushing Jack to lie on his back. “I don’t blame you for questioning my sincerity. Let me give you proof, Jack.”

Before Jack could do much more than register the words, Cas slid down and wrapped his mouth around Jack’s semi-soft cock. Little licks, long draws, and a few minutes later, Jack had to grip the comforter or sheets or whatever else besides Cas’s head that he could get his hands on. Cas did his best work without Jack’s hands attempting to guide him.

And oh God was this blowing away every previous time Cas had used his mouth. Normally Jack watched, but this time, a glimpse of that head bobbing with those movements threatened to break him that much faster. Moaning and gasping, Jack would’ve thanked Cas for finally pulling off in the end if he’d had the presence of mind or the time. He was hard and panting loudly in an effort to catch his breath. 

Cas was giving his cock a quick break, but not the rest of him. His fingers touched and caressed. His lips found familiar great places to press against. And Jack fumbled with Cas’s clothes. Tore them when they wouldn’t cooperate. With a deep chuckle, Cas took hold of Jack’s wrists and bound them tightly with the tie. Then he pushed them down against the bed. Jack got the hint and held them there. 

So far, Cas had been a surprise and that had been great. Amazing. This route was more familiar and Jack had to concentrate on Cas’s long fingers to prevent disappointment. As Cas leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube, Jack mentally prepared himself for the cold feeling and the press of Cas’s fingers in his ass.

Except Cas didn’t push the fingers he coated into Jack. He pushed them into himself. A few minutes later, Cas shifted, coated Jack’s cock, and then made his way onto him. Jack kept his hands where Cas had put them. For the first few movements, Jack could keep his hips still, too. Then Cas was moving easier so Jack rolled his hips up. Cas moaned and shuddered. 

Their gazes were still locked. Cas’s blue eyes pierced through everything. They seared into Jack’s and as they moved together, Jack couldn’t tear his attention away. Couldn’t hide, but Cas couldn’t either.

Even though Jack rose upwards, Cas rode him. He kept control on his motions. Like everything, he had purpose. Definition. Power. Authority. Until that little hitch. Jack heard the change in his breath and moaned. That little hitch was a sign of the switch and sure enough, Cas’s movements became more demanding, more needing, his voice louder, and his breathing heavier. They ground together in unison. Cas took hold of his own cock and hastily ran his hand up and down the shaft. Warm thick beads dropped onto Jack’s stomach and he pushed up hard in response.

The next few seconds became entirely about the way their bodies met, about staring into Cas’s eyes, about seeing Cas lose it first. Lust-blown, Cas tore his eyes away. His head thrown back, he moaned and clenched around Jack. He stayed on Jack, all the way down, even though Jack bucked.

The sight of Cas coming, the sound of his voice, the smells of Cas and Dean twisted up in the sheets beside Jack’s head, the warmth of Cas on his stomach, and all around him tipped Jack over the edge. He thrust upwards and cried out.

Seconds trailed languidly. Cas had collapsed on top of him and they struggled to find their air together. Jack had a harder time with the weight of the other man on his chest, but he didn’t complain. Soon enough Cas realized and lazily drifted to Jack’s side. He released Jack’s bound wrists and they cuddled together despite the sweat and other fluids.

Breathing had finally become a normal thing he didn’t have to concentrate on by the time Jack reopened his eyes. He’d managed the feat before Cas who clung to him, so he lightly teased his fingers through Cas’s hair. Cas let out a satisfied moan.

Minutes passed. Jack trailed his fingertips down Cas’s bare back and the other man nuzzled and then gasped when his hand reached low. With a satisfied chuckle, Jack kissed the top of Cas’s head.

Tilting his head up, Cas fixed his bright blue eyes on Jack. “Do you believe me now?”

“I do,” Jack murmured. “Kinda the problem here.”

“Why?” Cas wondered.

Jack brushed his knuckles lightly against Cas’s cheek. “Because I’ve been conned before. And he was damn good at it.”

“I’m not hiding information to harm you. I can’t tell you until I’m certain. I don’t want you to--”

“Overreact or whatever. Yeah, I know. But I don’t like being in the dark.”

“I know,” Cas admitted. He laid his head on Jack’s chest. “I’m sorry. It’s safer for you there, for now.”

“So you say.”

“Jack--”

Jack sighed loudly. “I’m not fighting,” he said. “After sex like that, it’s the last thing I want to think about doing, okay?”

Cas hooked his leg over Jack’s. “You enjoyed it?”

“Thought that was obvious,” Jack teased.

Cas snorted. After a moment, he sighed and tightened his grip on Jack.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

“I want a bath. I also don’t want to move.”

With a chuckle, Jack told him, “Tub’s big enough for both of us.” He ran his hand through Cas’s hair again.

“I guess that will make it bearable.” Only the slight difference in Cas’s voice let Jack know it was a joking acceptance.

Jack sat up slowly and Cas did too. He trailed his fingers over the bedsheets. “We should probably get fresh ones. But--”

“We’ll lose what we have of Dean,” Cas finished. Affectionately, Jack brushed his lips over Cas’s. “Don’t worry. We’ll have him back in our bed.”

“You know that for a fact?”

“We’ve had him in hotel beds twice with mere words. I’m confident that we can seduce him again.”

Jack smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll run the bath. You call room service.”

“Agreeable terms.” Cas leaned over and grabbed the phone. Jack watched every muscle as Cas moved. When Cas turned back and caught him, he snorted. “Go.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could put the phone back,” Jack replied.

“I’m filthy. You said you’d run a bath. Go.”

“Fine, fine.” Jack snuck a kiss and then rose from the bed.

Cas’s head tilted. “You could walk slowly.”

Laughing, Jack headed out of the room, but he took his time doing so.


	19. Chapter 19

The loud drop of a wooden chair woke Dean from his deep slumber. He jolted awake, popping up before his eyes had even finished opening, and caught himself on the back of the sofa before he wound up collapsing back down to the cushions. “I’m up!” he declared as he swung his feet to hit the floor. His coat fell into his lap. Afternoon sunlight came through the small window high above the worn and simple desk. 

“You know, she’s got blankets,” Bobby chastised as he sat down in the chair. He held out a plate at a full arm’s length to Dean.

Burger. Fries. Nirvana to his taste buds. Dean eagerly ate a couple of bites down.

“Good to know your appetite hasn’t changed,” Bobby grumbled. “Oh, and hello to you, too.”

“Sorry,” Dean said between bites. He wiped at his mouth. “Thanks.”

The simple word appeased the older man, though he sighed loudly in a fake show of displeasure. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You wanna tell me how you got here?”

“I drove.”

With a louder, more annoyed tone, Bobby said, “You were fretting over cash and then made it here in record time.”

Dean slowly chewed the bite of food he’d taken. After setting the plate down beside him, he brushed his hands off on his jeans and swallowed. “Someone gave it to me,” he said.

“That someone also responsible for those hickeys?”

“One of them.” Dean only risked looking up to Bobby’s face for a second.

“Oh hell, boy. You drive like a bat out of hell to get here and Ellen won’t tell me why. Says I’ve got to find the story out from you. So spill before I get any older.”

“Someone woke up on the grumpy side of bed,” Dean replied.

Bobby levelled a ‘I ain’t foolin’ boy’ look at him.

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “I, uh, got an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“Sort of getting asked out and job help all rolled into one.”

“And you needed advice on this because?”

The jeans he had on had a rip on the knee. He plucked at a loose thread and then forced himself to stop fussing. “It’s kind of a weird situation.”

“How?”

“‘Cause it’s two guys.”

Bobby’s eyes widened and his brow raised so far that even the brown cap on his head lifted too. “Tell me you’re not hooking.”

“Fuck no!” Dean snapped. “Where the hell did you get an idea like that?”

“Trying to figure out what’s got you so nervous,” he said with a relieved scowl crossing his features again.

“Two men asked me out. Like, they want to date me.”

“Yeah, so?” Bobby emphasized the ‘so’ as if Dean had this problem constantly.

Dean cleared his throat, squinted his eyes a fraction, and managed to meet Bobby’s gaze. “And you don’t think that’s weird at all?”

“You mean you and men?” Bobby huffed. “It ain’t exactly a surprise.”

“It’s not?”

“Who do you think your father talked to when he found those magazines?” That ‘don’t be an idiot, boy’ tone dominated his voice. He had a firm scowl on his face, but Bobby had used this look dozens of times over the years. Once, Dean had gotten to Bobby’s after getting roughed up in the bar. He’d asked the questions in the same kind of voice and then helped Dean clean and bandage his wounds.

“He told you about the pornos?” Dean asked. His throat tightened and he coughed to clear it. Didn’t help and he didn’t feel better for drawing attention. He grimaced and squinted. The truth was probably going to hurt.

“Yeah.”

Dean nodded and ran his hand up and down his leg. His spine had stiffened and the best thing he could do was ignore it. “What’d he say?”

Suddenly Bobby couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. His mouth softened into a sad frown. He got that expression every time he went to deliver bad news or any time he had to tell Dean something he didn’t want to say and Dean usually didn’t want to hear. 

Dean tore his eyes away. Easier to stare at the filing cabinet in the corner. It had chipped paint in a few spots and drawers that were never locked. The one in the far corner actually had rollers and moved to show the safe. Jo used to joke that they had ‘hidden treasure’ and her mom had played along. Dean had thought it was stupid, but then again the closest he ever came to playing a game with his dad was ‘see who can find the most disturbing news story first.’

Bobby sighed and said quietly, “Look, your father loved you, but he was an asshole.”

With a dry chuckle, Dean said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Tears would not cloud his vision. He wouldn’t let them. Dad had been a dick on the subject. Over a decade had passed and Dean still couldn’t shake the memory of that night. “He definitely wouldn’t approve of this.”

“Like that matters anymore? Man’s dead, Dean. Has been for years. You gotta start living your own life.”

“So far I’m not doing stellar in that area.” Dean sighed. “And I’m not sure this is the way to go. I mean, two guys? Does that even make sense?”

“Personally I don’t care so long as you’re happy.” Bobby took on that stern father tone. “Do they stand a chance of doing that?”

He’d spent a whole day cuddling with Jack in bed. No words, no judgments, no paralyzing anxiety of where he was going to find his next meal. And that night, Cas had dragged him into the cuddlefest on the couch and he’d fallen asleep with them again. The non-serious arguments he’d had with Jack about action movies, and teasing Cas about the chick flicks, only brought back a sense of warmth. Then his mind wandered back to the first time he’d woken up in bed with them. Trapped between them and not wanting to move. A smile teased at his lips. 

“Yeah. I think they do.”

“Then I don’t see the point in letting the chance go to waste, do you?”

“Naw.”

“Well all right then.” Bobby stood up. “Finish up that plate. Tammy called in sick. Ellen could use the help. Looks like it’s going to be a full house tonight.” 

“Think she’ll let me keep the tips? I kinda owe Cas.”

“I swear, every time you come home, you get a little stupider.”

“Ha ha,” Dean said. “I’ll be there in a minute. Need to grab my bag out of the Impala.”

Bobby left him alone in the office and Dean wolfed down the food as quick as he could. Then he used the back door to head out to the Impala. The parking lot had filled up and the sun hadn’t even set yet. Dean grabbed his bag from the trunk and went back to Ellen’s office. 

In a few quick moments, he’d changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a faded black t-shirt. He didn’t bother tossing on an overshirt like normal. On a night like tonight, the bar would be packed with people and body heat. No reason to add on another layer. He dipped his hand under the collar of the shirt and drew out the amulet Sam had given him a long Christmas ago. For the hell of it, he added a leather bracelet to his left wrist and two simple rings.

He bumped into Jo in the hallway. She barely stopped herself in time from running into him at full speed. “There you are,” she said. “You ready yet?”

“Let me hit the head. Then I’ll be good to go,” Dean said.

“Well hurry up!” Jo snapped.

“Hey, I just woke up. Calm your ass down,” Dean grumbled in return. He hurried into the bathroom, did everything quick as possible in there, and after washing his hands and splashing his face, he headed out towards the main room.

Jo met him in the hall again, just inside the doorway, and shoved a white apron in his hands. “Here.”

Dean frowned down at the fabric. “Really? I thought Tammy was a bartender now.”

“She is, but you ain’t got a license,” Jo replied. 

“Great,” Dean muttered to himself. He tied the apron around his waist. “What section?”

“Front.”

“Awesome.” Dean made his way out into the main room. 

All kinds of noise assaulted Dean. The crowd filled damn near every seat in the house and someone had gotten the jukebox running again with loud country song. A large party sat in the far back corner and they’d taken up several booths and tables. Jo had a handle on them. Dean stalked his way up to the front booths and tables. 

The first couple of hours went by easy. Dean had filled in before at the roadhouse and when he hadn’t done that, he’d sat around drinking. A lot of the regulars recognized him. They asked how he was, how Sam was, and a random few gave their condolences for his dad’s death. Dean chatted, flirted, and served the food and drinks until the kitchen closed down to a few basics. At that point, they’d have to get their own food. 

Shift over, Dean tore off the apron and sat down with Ellen in her office to cash out. He rifled through the bills and counted them up into neat stacks while Ellen went over his receipts. “You decided what you’re gonna do?” she asked.

Pausing in mid-motion, Dean lost count and had to start again on the current bills. “Uh, I think I’m going to go for it. Bobby thought it was a good idea.”

Ellen pursed her lips.

“What?” Dean demanded.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” she said with a huff. 

“You don’t?”

“Damn it, Dean. That’s not my point.” Ellen tossed the pen she was working with down on the desk and turned to face him. “You had a panic attack when I told Jo it was a problem with another man.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to tell her like that.”

“And why the hell weren’t you? You think we’re going to keep it some big secret?”

Dean closed his mouth and glared at her. When she only glared back, he said, “Okay. I got somethin’ to get over. That means I shouldn’t go?”

“No. You shouldn’t go if you can’t make up your own damn mind about something,” Ellen returned. “You’re too old to have people telling you what to do with your life.”

“For your information, Bobby didn’t tell me what to do,” Dean said. “I figured it out while talking to Ash and then to him and he agreed with me is all. But hey, thanks for the insight.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Ellen warned. 

“Don’t tell me to be a man and then treat me like a boy in the same damn breath,” Dean snapped. He tried to focus on the cash in his hands and then realized he’d forgotten the running total he’d gotten to. “Damn it. I lost track.”

“So start again.”

Dean grabbed up the bills and began again. Ellen sat at her desk counting and writing in the same irritated silence. Eventually, she broke the silence, “You gonna tell Sam?”

“In my own time,” Dean replied.

“I take that as a no.”

“Can I find out if this is a real thing before I go telling him?” Dean demanded. 

“I’m sure your brother just wants you to be happy.”

“Yeah, well, no sense getting his hopes up.” Dean finished up counting and they worked out how much he got to keep. Sadly, the cash wasn’t enough to cover what he owed Cas already. Dean folded the bills and stashed them in his duffel bag.

As he rose from the couch, Ellen said, “Dean, I’m not trying to ride your ass about this.”

“I called you for a reason,” he admitted. “You were never going to sugar coat it.”

Ellen nodded. She leaned back in her chair. “Where you going to stay tonight?”

“I don’t know. Was going to see if Bobby had a couple days’ work for me. Or if someone else in town might.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know if I need any help around here.”

“Thanks.”

Dean lifted his bag from the floor, snagged his jacket from the couch, and headed out of the room. The bar sounded loud and happy. He could grab a drink at the bar, but one would probably turn into two, and two into three and then he wouldn’t have what little money had made. Impulse said to say fuck it all to the cash, but he had a debt to pay already and he wasn’t going to add onto it.

So he turned and walked out the back door.


	20. Plastic Seats and Words

Airplanes were a lousy mode of transportation and airports a terrible place to wait.

Castiel sat on the hard plastic seat and leaned forward. Their duffel bags sat at his feet. He sighed loudly to himself for the third time and then wiped his hands over his face. 

“Here.”

Jack had come back. Castiel looked up at him and took the coffee he offered. The warmth spread through the thin cardboard and onto his fingers. “Thank you,” Castiel murmured.

Jack took the seat next to him and sipped his own coffee. “What’s happened now?”

“It seems we woke early for nothing,” Castiel said. “The flight has been delayed. Again.”

“So, am I wrong thinking it’s not just bad luck?” Jack asked quietly. He leaned in. “What are the chances the company decides to move you to an earlier flight and then that flight gets pushed back over four hours?”

“Five,” Castiel corrected. “This time they need to bring a new plane around.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up.

Castiel took a sip of the coffee. “The chances of coincidence are not good. They are testing me. But then, they are always testing me.”

“You passing?”

Anyone in the airport could be a potential spy for the other Angels. Speaking in public about them would only risk censure. A word of defiance now would benefit no one. So Castiel bought time by taking another sip until he found the words that could answer Jack without jeopardizing their lives. “I hope to perform to their expectations,” he said.

Those words set Jack on edge. His lover glanced around the other would-be passengers and he suddenly seemed to regard each one as a threat. Then again, Jack often jumped at the chance to hunt for threats. Castiel made note to find some kind of better employment for him. Jack must have gotten bored with his current post and for decent cause. After all, Castiel didn’t really need a bodyguard. Raphael had suggested the position Castiel had offered to Jack. Another way the Angels could keep tabs on everything in Castiel’s life.

Castiel’s phone rang. His hand dove into his pockets until he grasped it. A few moments of song still blasted the nearby area. “And please don’t fight these hands that are holding you. My hands are holding you.”

“Dean,” Castiel said automatically upon answering. He didn’t need the caller id to inform him. Only Dean had that ringtone. “Good morning.”

“Hey. Uh, how are you?”

“Good. Yourself?” Castiel asked. Jack fidgeted and stared intently at the empty plastic seat across from them.

“Doin’ okay. Look, I thought about it.”

“By ‘it,’ you mean moving to New York?”

“Yeah.” Dean paused and Castiel waited. Patience was a virtue in all things. “I want to, you know, give it a shot.”

“Excellent,” Castiel replied. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We’re flying back to New York today. Any day after tomorrow would be fine.”

“How ‘bout Thursday?”

“Acceptable.” When Dean said nothing, Castiel frowned. “What is it?”

“I got a really stupid question,” Dean muttered. “But my car.”

“There will be places you can park it.”

“That I’ve got to pay for, right? I can’t just park her on the street.”

“You’re correct,” Castiel said. “I can give you an allowance for--”

“No,” Dean snapped. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I’m going to owe you enough, okay? I’ve got a place out here I can store her if I ask nice. I find something that pays well enough, I’ll bring her in.”

“An agreeable plan.”

“Okay, so I’ll let you know when I’m making my way in. Probably catch the train.”

“All right. Stay safe until then, Dean.”

“Yeah. You two, too. Tell Jack I said hi.”

“I will.”

Dean ended the call and Castiel took the phone away from his ear. “Dean says hello,” he told Jack. 

“Sounded like he’s coming to New York?”

“He has agreed.” Castiel ticked his gaze down to the phone. “He’s leaving his Impala somewhere else. A friend’s, I assume.”

“Probably better for it for now,” Jack agreed. He took the phone out of Castiel’s fingers. “And he’s got his own ringtone now?”

“You took too long getting coffee,” Castiel teased even though the tone didn’t match. He tried to take the phone back, but Jack dodged away from him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, he’s got one.”

“Jack, don’t be petty. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but his thumb continued to flick over the controls. “What the hell?” he murmured. Then he hit play on the ringtone that Castiel had chosen for him. “Time has brought your heart to me. I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more,” sang the phone. When it repeated, Jack hit stop.

“Really?” Jack said. That devious laugh bubbled in his voice.

Castiel stole his phone back and stared down at it in his hand. “Yes,” he practically growled.

Jack stretched his arm out over the back of Castiel’s seat. “Hey, I’m not making fun.”

“You are,” Castiel accused.

“It’s sweet.” Jack kissed Castiel’s cheek, but Castiel didn’t move. “Makes mine seem lame.” He pulled his own phone out. “Go on. Call me.”

Castiel scowled at the phone and did as he asked.

“Every morning there’s a halo hanging from the corner of my girlfriend’s four post bed. I know it’s not mine,” sang the phone. Jack hit ignore on the call.

“That is what you think of me,” Castiel said.

“No,” Jack replied. He tucked the phone back into his pocket. “I was just having some fun when I chose that.” He kissed Castiel’s cheek. “Wasn’t meant to be literal. Reminded me of you for a few seconds, so I chose it.”

“Well of course it isn’t literal. I do not actually possess a halo, and.” Castiel stopped. He set the cup of coffee down on the side table between his seat and the next.

“And what?” Jack asked.

With a smirk, Castiel finished, “And I think we both know who the ‘girlfriend’ really is.”

A smile conquered Jack’s lips and he laughed. “Okay,” he agreed. “I think you’ve got a point.” He snuck in and kissed Castiel’s lips. Castiel froze when he did. As Jack moved back, Castiel stared into his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute when you’re mischievous.”

“I am many things. I am never cute,” Castiel argued. 

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

Castiel glared at his boyfriend.

Jack grinned. “And you’re pretty hot when you’re annoyed.” Once again, he leaned in.

This time Castiel saw him coming and he backed away. “Don’t,” he said sharply. The mirth and teasing had left his voice.

“Why the hell not?” Jack demanded fiercely.

“They could be watching.”

Jack’s mouth became a firm line. “Who? The Angels?”

“Yes.”

“So?” Jack scooted in closer. His hand went from the back of Castiel’s chair to his shoulder.

Castiel glanced down at Jack’s hand and then forcibly moved it off. “So I don’t want them to see us.”

“They know we’re a couple,” Jack snapped.

“They don’t know I care,” Castiel whispered.

“Why would they assume you don’t?”

Castiel glanced around the waiting area. Others had filled the plastic seats. While he and Jack still had some space to themselves, privacy simply wasn’t possible in such a public area. “Here isn’t the place,” Castiel pleaded.

A laugh sprang from Jack’s throat, but it had no happiness. It was a joyless sound. Castiel had to stop himself from reaching for Jack’s hand or for him in anyway. A small measure of physical comfort would both reassure Jack and alert the Angels to sentimentality.

“Jack,” Castiel said.

Jack swung his gaze back to meet Castiel’s. Water filled his eyes, his cheeks had reddened, and Castiel heard the tightness in his voice when he spoke. “They think I’m what? Warm body for you to work off the tension? Piece of meat to keep your bed nice and ready?” His voice broke as he continued, “Let me guess, I’m your whore.”

At the last word, Castiel reflexively dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“Screw them,” Jack hissed. “Screw you.”

Jack ducked forward, grabbed his bag, and stood. His greatcoat flowed down in smooth lines and he strode away.

The training in his mind told Castiel to let Jack walk. The man would be back or he’d leave, and to an Angel of the Lord, either option should work. Better, actually, if Jack walked out of his life finally. No more distracting images and impulses would cloud his mind. He wouldn’t hurt him if he said the wrong thing. Only his life would be at risk if he rebelled. No one else to worry about. Safety in isolation.

He’d simply go home to the apartment without Jack. 

No.

Castiel stood. The motion alone didn’t draw any attention from anyone besides the woman sitting four seats away. “Jack!” Castiel commanded. His voice carried and people stopped and stared.

Like the others, Jack stopped. He half-turned to peer over his shoulder at Castiel.

With his hands clenched at his sides, Castiel strode forward, stepping over his duffel without even looking down. A hard stern frown had taken over his face. The expression caused Jack to turn and square his shoulders. They were practically the same height, and Castiel kept his focus on Jack’s eyes. As he drew close, Jack’s jaw stiffened.

“I shouldn’t have to prove myself to you over and over,” Castiel snapped when they were face to face. “What have I ever done to make you doubt me?” He tilted his head. “Are you that concerned with what everyone else thinks that whatever faceless strangers believe about you is more important than what I feel?”

“Don’t twist this on me,” Jack returned. He jabbed a finger at him. “Just there, you looked guilty.”

“Because I allow them to think that,” Castiel replied. He intentionally kept his voice low. If the Angels overheard him, everything could be ruined. “To keep you safe, I make sure they think the worst.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

Castiel let a deep breath out through his nostrils. He clenched his jaw.

“Right.” Jack turned away from him.

He could go home alone. Pack the rest of Jack’s things and send them when he had a new address. Castiel’s throat clenched tight. He looked away. That would throw away everything he had done with Jack in the last year. 

With a deep breath, he raised his eyes again. “I do it for a reason,” Castiel insisted.

“Better be a damn good one,” Jack said with a sigh. When he faced Castiel again, he had a frown.

Castiel hesitated. Jack raised an eyebrow, but Castiel still couldn’t force himself to speak.

Then Jack took one step backwards. Resignation had taken the place of anger on his features. If Castiel did nothing, Jack would leave him. Most likely, for forever.

“So they won’t take you away from me.”

Jack’s brow shot up in surprise. “What?”

“If they thought, if they knew anything,” Castiel stammered. He finally met Jack’s gaze again. The right words slipped from him in low, quick tones. “Angels are not supposed to have ‘earthly’ connections. They would insist I rid myself of you if they knew how I truly felt. I don’t want that to happen. I let them believe what they need to believe.” Desperation made his voice gruffier. “So please, stop jeopardizing everything I am working for.”

Jack swallowed. Castiel saw the jump of his Adam’s apple. 

“Because of your past experiences, you’re having trouble trusting me,” Castiel continued. “And I understand. I have been as understanding as I can be, but I cannot keep repeating our arguments. We are bringing someone new into our lives. We don’t know what the Angels will do or even if this relationship will work. But it won’t stand a chance unless you can finally trust me, Jack.”

With a deep breath, Jack admitted, “You’re right.”

“Can we sit back down now?” Castiel demanded.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Castiel’s eyes widened.

Jack rolled his shoulder and swung the bag into his hands. He offered it out to Castiel. “Here. I just need to hit the bathroom, okay? I’ll be right back.”

After nodding, Castiel took the bag from Jack and made his way back to his seat. He hadn’t even been alone a few seconds before Uriel took Jack’s seat.

“Quite an interesting display,” Uriel said with a smirk. 

“I take it you were watching the whole time,” Castiel muttered. He glanced around for signs of other Angels and to ensure Jack hadn’t decided to skip the bathroom trip. His hope that everything had remained unnoticed and therefore private evaporated.

“He throws a pretty tantrum,” Uriel sneered. “He’s like a petulant child. Always sulking. Why do you put up with it?”

“Are you asking for yourself or as Raphael’s representative?”

“It amuses me that you put up with his crap.” Uriel fussed with his suit jacket and leaned back in his seat. “Raphael will be curious what you said to him to calm him down.”

Castiel waited a long moment before he said anything. He folded his hands together and leaned forward. One wrong word and everything would crash. Always one wrong word from everything falling apart. He was insane to think they could drag Dean into his life. A virtual stranger had no hopes of navigating the tricky waters Castiel had sailed into. Yet Dean needed an opportunity to make something of his life, and Jack needed the chance to find happiness, especially if something happened to him. “I told him what he needed to hear.”

“Always an interesting choice of words,” Uriel teased. “I need specifics.”

Angels did not have privacy from other Angels.

Glaring at Uriel, Castiel confessed, “I told him that I allow the garrison to think he’s my whore in order to protect him.”

“So which is the truth and which is the lie?”

Castiel frowned out at the distance. After a long pause, he said, “Jack will be back. You won’t want him to catch you.”

“No, you won’t want him to catch me. But don’t worry. Jack is being distracted by a lovely young woman who has lost her way.” Uriel grinned. “Now, stop evading.”

“I am faithful to the cause,” Castiel protested. He motioned with his hands as he spoke in a vain hope to relieve the tension building in his thoughts. “Jack is an asset. He is useful.”

“He’s not an Angel.”

“Not all servants of the Lord have to be,” Castiel argued. “These arguments have been happening because he is bored. He doesn’t feel productive.”

“It is not our place to make sure your pet is happy.”

“You are making this difficult,” Castiel snapped. “I am asking for help. It is not your place to refuse.”

Uriel arched a brow. “You want me to convince Raphael to give your pet something to do because it would aid you. Your happy love life is not our concern, Castiel.” Uriel rose and buttoned his suit jacket.

“He could be of use to us,” Castiel said.

“Like Dean Winchester?” Uriel asked. “I heard you speaking to him. One man is suddenly not enough for you?”

“It’s complicated,” Castiel replied. He raised his eyes to face Uriel’s stare.

“Seems to me you’ve already attained a solution.” Castiel frowned in confusion, so Uriel chuckled, smoothed his hand over the suit jacket, and added, “When a dog is lonely, you get another dog.”

Castiel clenched his hands. A fist through Uriel’s face would solve nothing. In fact, more problems would arise. So Castiel bit down on his anger and resorted to glaring at the man’s back as he walked away.

Damned if he did something, damned if he didn’t. For all the power an Angel was supposed to wield, Castiel kept discovering he didn’t have any more choice than a well-trained dog. True, everything he had, he owed to them, and the role he would play in the upcoming days was important. But somewhere along the line, servitude had become slavery.

By the time Jack came back, Castiel had settled his focus on a dog carrier. The man who owned the dog was fawning over it immensely. 

“So I just got stopped by the cutest blonde,” Jack remarked. He paused and softened his voice. “I’m guessing that wasn’t an accident.”

“It wasn’t.” Castiel continued to watch the dog and its owner. Ignorance had been bliss once upon a time.

“I pushed. And they pushed back.” Jack played with his lip between two long fingers and then let his hand drop. “That line you’re walking is about as wide as a tightrope, huh?”

“An almost accurate analogy,” Castiel admitted. He finally glanced at Jack. “It’s also about seventy floors off the ground. When you argue with me like that, a torrential downpour with hurricane winds is added to the situation.”

They were silent for a long moment. “Are we really going to lead Dean into this?” Jack asked.

“You were right. The company has already taken notice of him. Besides, it would be rude to rescind an offer he’s already accepted.” Castiel couldn’t hold back from watching Jack’s hands. “Also, we like him. We shouldn’t let them take away our potential happiness.”

Jack nodded. “Have you ever seen such green eyes before?” he asked suddenly.

“Never. Nor the way he tries to hide behind his eyelashes when he’s being bashful.”

“And he’s such a perfect heater. It’s like cuddling with an electric blanket.” Jack flashed a grin. “And the way he trips over his words when he’s nervous.”

“I don’t think he realizes that he moans in almost the same tone as when he says ‘uh.’” Castiel was holding back a smile and he dipped his head as he spoke.

Jack laughed again, finally the warm happy sound Castiel loved to hear. With the ugly words gone and the argument over, he was remarkably beautiful again. Even though Castiel had meant the strange little song when he had made it Jack’s ringtone, moments like this reminded him why. A strong impulse to grab Jack’s hand came to mind.

Well, he was already damned either way, wasn’t he?

So he took hold of Jack’s hand. Jack was surprised and opened his mouth to speak. The last thing Castiel wanted to do was over-analyze his impulse, so he interrupted, “You know he won’t be able to afford his own place in Manhattan. We won’t be able to cover that up.”

“Not even in one of your buildings?”

“Dean isn’t so stupid to believe the rent would be so little in those types of buildings,” Castiel sighed. “But I don’t want him living in a dangerous place.”

“So roommate then.”

Castiel frowned. “Yes. But I don’t know of anyone looking for a roommate that would accept--” He frowned more as Jack was already drawing out his phone from the pocket of his greatcoat. “Who?”

With a broader smile, Jack said, “Oh, that’ll ruin the surprise. Don’t worry. They’ll be perfect for each other.”

“Are you sure we can convince Dean to go for it?” Castiel asked.

“Are we suddenly doubting my skills?” Jack joked. “Besides, all I’ve got to do is convince her. No one ever tells her no.”

“Oh. Her.” Castiel tilted his head and mused, “I seem to recall you did tell her no.”

“Okay, true, I did. But I was happily dating you and she was on the drunk rebound.” Jack one-handedly sent a message off on his phone. His phone chirped within a second, and he sent off another.

Castiel couldn’t help peeking at Jack’s phone. “When did you take a picture of Dean?”

“When he was sleeping.”

“Do you have photos of me without my consent?”

“Personal use,” Jack replied.

Castiel gave Jack a skeptical look.

“Okay, I’m using this one for his good. Only reason I sent it out.” Jack pursed his lips. “I’m not deleting photos of you off my phone.”

Castiel held onto Jack’s hand. His own phone didn’t have any personal touches to it. Nothing that made it unique besides the separate ringtones he had for Jack and Dean. “Of course not. But I’m going to take my own pictures.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

Jack’s phone rang and he answered the call. Not wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation, Castiel slid back into his own thoughts and turned his head back towards the airport. Anyone in the crowd could be an Angel. He didn’t know every Angel’s face, though he knew many of them. Instead, he sought out the subtle signs of his ‘kind.’ Those who did the legwork, who did the watching, often stood too rigid. Too robotic.

Angels should be spending their time doing other things than spying on fellow Angels, but if he attempted to make that argument to Raphael, he would receive ridicule. The Angels were there for protection. Someone with Castiel’s knowledge would be invaluable. If he were ever captured by the wrong people, then the network would face exposure and vulnerability. However, the Angels following him saw everything. Knew everything. The doctrines stated that Angels had no privacy. Castiel had no right to expect any. Nothing was his. Everything theirs.

For the first time in years, that was beginning to bother him. Why?

Jack’s good-natured laugh drew Castiel’s attention. “All right, we’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone. “She agreed.”

“Excellent.”

Jack settled into his seat and absently rubbed his thumb against the back of Castiel’s hand. The warmth of his hands and the rhythm of the movement drew Castiel back to watching Jack’s hand. His wrist didn’t have a mark from the tie from the previous day. Good. Castiel hadn’t wanted to leave a mark. 

A woman’s voice came over the speakers. Their flight would be ready to board in a few minutes.

“Funny how that’s timed,” Jack muttered. “Is there any limit to what they can do?”

“It’s not my place to find out,” Castiel said. He rose from his seat and Jack’s hand drifted slightly away. Instead, Castiel hung on tighter. Home wouldn’t have been home if Castiel had been forced to return to New York without Jack. At some point, he would have to confess that, but not here. Not where the Angels could hear every word. Right now, he could still argue that he was simply satisfying Jack. Pacifying him. He still had a chance to make everything work.

Finally, Castiel let Jack’s hand slip from his. His fingers had only lingered a few long seconds. Castiel leaned down and grabbed his bag while Jack stood up and grabbed his own. Together, they headed for the boarding ramp.

Soon they’d be back in New York. Back home where the Angels couldn’t interfere. Which sounded so good right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas's ringtones: Dean's is "By Your Side" by Tenth Avenue while Jack's is "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri.
> 
> Jack's ringtone for Cas is "Every Morning" by Sugar Ray.


	21. A Train Ride and Hands

“Dean, she’s not going to disappear if you stop staring at her,” Bobby griped.

Dean ran his hands over the edge of the Impala’s hood. Sunlight warmed the black paint and she shined from the wax coat he’d given her yesterday. They had one last good day together. “Give me a minute, okay? I don’t know how long it’s going to be.”

“You know I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know that,” Dean scoffed. “It’s just.” He paused and knelt down in front of the grill. So many times he had fixed her up, taken care of her, and she’d repaid the favor. Given him and Sam a roof to sleep under when they didn’t have any money. Her steel frame and hard body had saved his life in the crash with the semi-truck. Sure, he’d gotten banged up pretty bad, Dad had died, and Sammy had gotten a broken arm, but if they’d been in some newer plastic piece of crap they would’ve all been splattered across that highway.

Even though leaving a car shouldn’t be so tough, Dean had to have a stare down with the grill to stop the waterworks. The Impala was more like home than any four-walled structure had been. “Bobby, the last time I let this car out of my sight for more than a day was a decade ago and Dad was driving her.”

Bobby laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know, son. You wanna change your mind?”

“No. I mean, parking in Manhattan is crazy and there’s no way I can afford for her to stay anywhere,” Dean said. And he couldn’t accept anymore of Cas’s handouts. He finally stood again and Bobby’s hand drifted away.

“I meant about going.”

“Naw. Something different’s supposed to be good, right?”

Bobby nodded. “You talk to Sam lately?”

“No. I’m still a little pissed. I mean, I get having to leave, but he didn’t say a damn word to me. Again,” Dean said. He lifted his bag off the ground and slid the strap onto his shoulder. Everything he had fit inside the bag except for the shotgun and couple of handguns. Those technically weren’t registered and he’d have a hard time explaining them to an NYPD officer or some authority on the public transport if he was searched. So better to leave them with Baby and Bobby instead.

Besides, the hunt for Azazel was long over. He didn’t need the damn things anymore.

“I’ll call him when I’m settled in New York,” Dean promised. “Give him some good news for once.”

“Guess that’ll have to do,” Bobby complained. “Now can we get going before you miss it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean sighed. He pulled the canvas cover down the rest of the way, fussed over the way it lay for a moment, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. As he followed Bobby towards the old Chevelle, Dean risked one last glance over his shoulder at his car.

No Baby. No Sammy. No Bobby or Ellen. He’d be on his own for the first time. His stomach rolled and he took a deep breath.

Bobby drove towards the train station. They didn’t talk because they didn’t need to. Outside the window was trees and grass among the town buildings. Short buildings and few people. The city wouldn’t be like that. Dean folded his arms and leaned back in the seat. He’d been to loads of small towns. Sure he’d visited some of the bigger ones like St. Louis, but he didn’t spend much time in them. Certainly didn’t live in them.

Damn. He already missed the open road.

When they reached the station, Dean muttered a quick thanks and then threw open the door.

“Hey, you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” Bobby told him. “You’re going to be a lot closer. We can come get you if you need us to.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean replied sincerely. “I’ll call you when I’ve got an address.”

“You better.”

Dean held back a laugh at Bobby’s tone and swung the car door shut. He hurried into the station, bought a ticket, and then went to stand with everyone else on the platform. Summer had finally come in full force. Dean slid out of his jacket and put it in his bag which finally filled the rest of the space.

His phone beeped. He rolled his eyes, dug into his bag for his jacket pocket, then closed the whole damn thing up again before looking at the message.

Unknown number. Dean frowned and opened the message.

  **Hey. It’s Jack. Stole the number from Cas.**

Dean quickly typed back.  **Sorry. Should have given it to you myself.** **  
**

**Had an excuse to raid his pockets, so I'm good. You on the train?**

**Not yet. Waiting.** Dean glanced up and down the platform until he found a clock displaying expected arrival time.  **Five mins.**

**Let us know when you get on.**

Dean shoved the phone into his jeans pocket and hoisted the bag up onto his shoulder. He wasn’t the only one on the platform with luggage. A few groups had luggage too. One whole family had a giant set of matching gear. Otherwise, most people only had a briefcase or shoulder bag if they had any kind of bag at all. Damn near all the single travelers had either iPods, tablets, or phones to occupy their hands and focus. All Dean could do with his phone was stare at the texts he’d been sent or use it and he certainly didn’t have an iPod or tablet.

Cas probably had a whole apartment filled with that kind of stuff. Well, Dean would get to see that soon enough. Even if he wasn’t going to live with them, they were bound to invite him over at some point.

The train came around the far end and soon enough clacked on the rails beside the station. Dean boarded and found a seat. No one grabbed the one next to him, so he tossed his bag onto it. Damn things were always made for short people. If he slouched at all, his knees would bump into the seat in front of him. At least he wouldn’t have too long to go. Just an hour. Relatively short compared to his latest drives.

Though the drives were always with Baby. Always with his music.

The train lurched forward and then it was on its way. Thundering and rocking on its way towards Penn Station. A voice announced more stops along the way. Dean leaned his head back against the headrest. As the train got underway, Dean dug his phone out again.  **Hey. On it and moving.**

**Great. Meet you when you get in.**

 A few long seconds later, Jack’s text came back.

Small town bars and shops disappeared. Dean watched the landscape change. Houses stopped showing up and factories took their place. All too soon towers of concrete and brick and steel became the norm. He wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

Dean clutched his bag on his lap as the train came to a stop at the station. The aisle filed out pretty quick and he stepped off the train and into Penn Station. People pushed past each other or flat out ignored one another on their way from the train to the main station. The text had sounded like they’d find him, but the mess of people only got more confusing. Everything was gray linoleum, electronic signage, and people. Way too many people. Dean hoisted the bag on to his shoulder better and struggled to take in the whole crowd. He dug his phone out of his pocket. After sending Jack a quick, message, Dean snapped his phone shut and shoved it into a back pocket.

An arm looped around his waist from behind and Dean prepared to strike the cavalier grabber in the gut with his elbow. Before he had time, lips pressed against the spot behind his left ear. Cas stepped around into his line of sight from the other side at the same time. “Damn it, Jack,” Dean said crossly. “I almost hit you.”

Jack chuckled next to his ear before slipping away from him. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said with a broad grin as he came around front. Kinda weird, but he had on jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Dean had gotten used to seeing him naked or in the old-school blue uniform.

Cas, as always, had on a black suit with a white shirt and blue tie. However, the heat must have gotten to him, too. He’d left behind the trench coat. “I told him it would be rude.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.

“Hey, if you had clocked me, I would have accepted it graciously,” Jack said. “It’s good to see you, Dean.”

“Yeah. Likewise.” Dean shifted the bag on his shoulder.

“That’s all you brought with you?” Cas asked.

“Not to sound like a broken record, but yeah.”

Cas nodded. “We’ll find some time to drive out and pick up the rest.”

“We won’t need to,” Dean told him. Cas tilted his head by a slight degree and furrowed his brow. Suddenly Dean’s face felt too warm. “Uh, this is all there is.”

Cas’s eyes went to the bag and widened a marginal degree. Dean looked down. Okay the bag was a decent size, but he’d still had space in it until he’d put Dad’s jacket in there. Cas’s assumption hadn’t been a bad one. Most people had more stuff. A lot more. Cas probably had a whole freaking room devoted to clothes even though he tended to wear the same look. A whole room of black suits or something. And Dean only had his bag.

Jack stole the bag off his shoulder and threw it across his own. “So, I’m starving. You?”

Dean took a deep breath and nodded. He managed to raise his eyes from the floor--kudos to him--and look back at Jack. “Yeah. Barely had any breakfast.”

“Well there’s places all around,” Jack offered. “Or I saw a hot dog vendor about a block up.”

“On the way to the car?” Dean asked.

“We’re on our feet and subway system today,” Jack replied.

“Thought you had an SUV,” Dean said.

Jack glanced to Cas and shifted the bag. “Well--”

“I wouldn’t let him drive,” Cas explained. “A move to Manhattan is scary enough without subjecting you to the way Jack drives. Taxis look normal.”

“They aren’t any safer,” Jack argued.

“Because I insisted on buying a veritable tank for you. You could ram that machine into a solid concrete wall and still walk away,” Cas returned.

“Okay, then let’s just get the dogs and be on our way,” Dean interrupted. He mentally ran through the contents of his wallet and then smiled. “Hey, I’ll even buy.”

Cas frowned again.

“I made some money the last few days,” Dean said. “I’ve got enough to pay you back and a little to spare.”

“Dean, you may as well keep the money. I’d end up giving that right back to you at our current juncture.”

The emotional sucker punch hit Dean harder than a semi. And he’d been hit by a semi.

Jack took hold of his hand and Dean immediately clenched onto him. His brain cursed the decision. Anyone. Anyone could see them. And grown men didn’t hold hands like school girls. The only grown men who held hands were usually fucking. Which Dean had done with Jack a few times. Would do more if he pursued this relationship. Right. Relationship. Relationships came with handholding. And handholding would publicly announce that he was into men and having a relationship with a man. Two men.

In a panic, his mind screamed for him to let go. Hop on the train. Give Cas the money and just get out. Dean could hear his pulse in his ears. The air got too tight again. So many damn people. Too many damn people. They could all see. A high pitched ringing began in his ears and it blocked out all other sound.

Frowning, Jack asked, “Dean, you okay?” When Dean didn’t answer right away, he repeated, “Dean?”

Breathe. He had to remember to breathe. One. Two. Dean took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. One. Two.

The noise of the station came back to him. Fuck, Jack looked concerned and was growing more so by the second. Even Cas’s usually unreadable features were becoming alarmed. Sweat crawled down Dean’s back and ran along his spine. Crap.

“If it’s about the money,” Cas began.

“No!” Dean blurted. His eyes widened and he froze. He’d shouted. He hadn’t meant to. Another deep breath was in order. In his mind, he started running the song “Smoke on the Water.”

Jack glanced down to their hands. Pain flickered across his features. Minute, tiny, pain that if Dean hadn’t been watching he would have missed. Jack started to release his grip.

Damn it. No. Dean wouldn’t screw this up in less than five minutes. Couples held hands. People who liked each other held hands. Dean was both dating Jack and he liked him. So screw what the world thought.

Taking the opportunity, Dean laced his fingers into Jack’s and then squeezed. “I’ll be okay,” he managed. “Promise.”

Jack lifted an eyebrow, but his hand settled back into holding Dean’s. “You sure?”

“You two are my first boyfriends, okay?” Dean said. “Going to take some getting used to.”

Now both of Jack’s brows raised. “No guy’s ever held your hand before?” The look on Jack’s face said he’d understand anything Dean had to say on the subject. Like he’d listen without judgment to whatever nonsense Dean had to spurt out.

A man doesn’t talk about his feelings.

That was still practical advice. Dean shoved down all the nausea and the tiny happy flutter his stomach had finally communicated to his brain and replaced it with the armor of annoyance.

“Oh shut up,” Dean scoffed. “We’re not making a deal out of this. Can we just go? I’m starving.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He started leading the way out of the station and Dean walked beside him.

Cas, who still had his brows knitted together in confusion, fell in step on Jack’s other side. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Jack looped his free arm around Cas’s shoulders and dragged him in for a kiss on the cheek. Though he tried to whisper the words, Dean still heard him say, “I’ll explain later.”

Good. At least Dean wouldn’t have to try to find the words. He wasn’t sure he had them for himself yet.

When they got to the hot dog vendor, Dean managed to speak first and told the guy that he’d be buying for all three of them. Cas opened his mouth, but Jack shot him a look which made Cas pause. “Uh, I’ll take mine plain,” Cas said.

“Plain?” Dean ridiculed while the vendor handed Cas his order. “What kind of New Yorker are you?”

“I’m not originally from New York.”

Jack finished ordering his dog with just about everything the vendor had to offer. “But you’ve lived here a few years now.” He took the hot dog and nabbed a bite out of it.

Dean dolled the cash out to the vendor. Dean’s hot dog had the usual fare--mustard, ketchup, pickle, onion. After the vendor handed back the cash, Dean tucked his wallet back into his pocket and took up his hot dog. “Speaking of, you know, living here. Where are we going to start?”

“Did you do any research?” Cas asked.

“A little. I mean, honestly, I don’t think I can afford Manhattan solo,” Dean said as they walked away. “I found a few ‘roommate wanted’ ads. Maybe we could check them out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said. His mouth was full of food and the words came out distorted.

Cas swallowed his bite. “Really, Jack? Don’t chew with your mouth open.”

Jack shrugged.

Chuckling, Dean snagged a bite of his food between steps.

They managed to finish up the hot dogs on the slow walk to the subway station. Dean bought a pass while Cas and Jack used theirs to slip through the turnstiles. Soon enough, Dean joined them on the other side and they went down to the platform together.


	22. A Roommate

Dean crumpled his piece of notebook paper before shoving it into his bag. With a loud sigh, he admitted, “Well, those sucked.”

Dean had come into the city prepared. At least, he thought he had. He’d checked out a few places online, made some contacts with people, and then they’d trekked out to the different apartments that seemed like they wouldn’t be total shit. The first place had turned out okay, but the would-be roommate looked like he slept in his bathrobe and only drank booze all day. The second apartment didn’t have security doors that actually locked—something Cas and Jack opposed and Dean understood their point. On the third building, the hallways there had smelled of something Dean didn’t even want to identify. They hadn’t even made it into the apartment before giving up on that one. This fourth place, well, the guy couldn’t stop gawking at Dean or Jack or Cas. He seemed to get right away that they were a threesome-relationship and Dean just didn’t feel like getting left alone with him.

“You had more,” Cas pointed out.

“Yeah. Lot of good that’ll do us. The rest are even more expensive than these places were,” Dean complained.

“Price doesn’t--” Cas began.

“I’ve got to be able to make the rent on my own at some point,” Dean said. “And come on, I’m not going to get that good of a job any time soon.”

Cas scowled, but before he could say anything more, Jack interrupted, “What if I told you I knew someone looking for a place?”

“I’d ask why the hell you didn’t bring it up sooner,” Dean replied.

“Well, it’s a girl,” Jack said. “You seemed to be going after male roommates.”

“Most of the ads I saw of girls looking for a roommate wanted, you know, a girl. Which I’m not.” Dean started walking down the sidewalk. “Is she gonna care that I’m a dude?”

“Kind of told her already that we might stop by. She won’t mind.”

“Uh, great. How far have we got to go?”

Cas stepped towards the edge of the sidewalk and glanced up and down the street. “We’re taking a taxi.”

“So we’re trusting a taxi driver but not me,” Jack replied.

“I won’t have to pay to repair the taxi,” Cas teased.

Jack rolled his eyes and Dean laughed.

The taxi ride took a while and it took them into a swankier area. Cas took the lead and Jack stayed a half step behind him. Drifting along behind them, Dean couldn’t help staring up at the building. It soared at least fifty stories overhead. Had to. And most of the upper floors had balconies. The sheer amount of glass alone was impressive --never mind the amount of concrete and tan brick that went into the structure. Add to all that, it had a doorman. A freaking doorman in a green and tan suit and a hat. Cas and Jack strode past the doorman without pause and Dean gave the guy a tight-lipped smile.

Beyond the door was a lobby. Built into the left wall was a whole crap ton of metal mailboxes that little gold markers on them. A guy in a security uniform sat behind a nice looking counter. Jack leaned against it and said, “We’re here to see Amy Pond. She should be expecting us. I’m Jack.”

The security guy picked up a black phone and pressed a button.

“Amy Pond,” Dean joked, “like the super model?”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Jack replied.

Dean’s jaw dropped. Amy Pond. He knew the name. What respecting person interested in women didn’t know about the red-headed babe who had graced the cover of like a dozen magazines in the last two years? While Dean wasn’t huge on the fashion industry, he’d been in enough supermarkets and drugstores to catch glimpses. Okay, and maybe read a page or two when he was bored out of his mind. Or just waiting on Sam to freaking choose some damn vegetables. “Wait. You’re kidding. Amy freaking Pond? The Amy Pond? She can’t find a roommate?”

“She’s choosy,” Jack answered.

The security guard said a few words into the phone and then set it down again. “You’re cleared, sirs.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. Then he led the way to the elevators.

Cas scrutinized Dean’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Dean, you look distressed.”

The three of them got into the elevator. “Look,” Dean said, “there’s no way I’m in the same league as Amy Pond for renting space. Or like, in life.”

“Won’t hurt to take a look,” Jack insisted as he hit the button for the forty-second floor.

Dean leaned against the wall of the elevator. “Seriously? There’s no way. I don’t even have a job.”

“Yet,” Cas said. He had that perfectly annoying calm expression. “We can help you find employment.”

“Cas, I don’t want to sound rude or nothing, but I don’t need your help with everything. I’ll find something.”

“Still, if you require assistance, I can help.”

Dean suppressed a sigh and kept his gaze on the ceiling. They weren’t going to let him out of seeing the place. So he’d see it. He’d find some damn excuse to dismiss it as a living place. Him and chicks just didn’t work out. Then he’d head out and sometime later tonight he’d tell Sam all about meeting Amy freaking Pond.

The elevators finally opened again and all three men headed out onto the floor. The hall’s dark green carpet muffled the sounds of their footsteps. Jack led the way and knocked on a door labeled 42B.

Amy Pond, supermodel and--if Dean had heard right--writer, opened the door. She had on a striped tank-top, a pair of loose slacks, and even on an off-day she looked as gorgeous as she did on the cover of magazines. She grinned broadly and threw her arms around Jack. “Jack!”

Jack hugged her back.

Amy let him go and playfully punched his shoulder. “You missed my party the other week,” she scolded. She headed into the apartment and they followed her.

Dean couldn’t help looking around while they kept talking. The living room and kitchen were one giant great room. The other places Dean had seen that day could’ve fit into that room alone. One wall was entirely windows and glass with a door and Dean could see a balcony beyond that. The great room was furnished with a large white couch, high-end electronics, and looked like it belonged to the successful celebrity who owned the place. It was clean. It was gorgeous. It had to cost more than Bobby and Ellen had made in three years combined.

His grip tightened on his bag. What was he doing here of all places?

“Couldn’t be helped,” Jack said. “We were out of town. Brought back a souvenir though.”

Dean barely caught Jack motioning at him. “You’re hilarious,” Dean muttered with a scowl. 

Amy ignored his annoyance and held her hand out. “You must be Dean.”

“Yeah,” he replied. He shook her hand.

“Your picture didn’t do you any justice,” Amy told him.

“You got a picture of me?” Dean asked. He frowned and glanced at Jack. “You got a picture?”

“You might’ve been asleep,” Jack said.

Dean raised both eyebrows.

“At the time, I wasn’t sure I would get to see you again,” Jack said defensively.

Amy interrupted, leaning closer to Dean and even touching his arm lightly. “Want to see the rest of the place?”

Dean hesitated. He cleared his throat and admitted, “I don’t want to waste your time.”

Jack tensed at that. So did Cas.

Great. Just great. He was stellar at this whole meeting friends and dating thing. He took in a big breath and began, “I appreciate what everyone’s--”

Amy grabbed Dean’s arm. “Oh shut up,” she said. “You haven’t even seen it all yet. You can’t say no.” She tugged on him and he followed with slow heavy steps. Jack and Cas fell in behind them, but Amy turned back. She added, “Tour for potential roommate only, boys. You’ll have to wait here.”

So Jack and Cas sat down on the couch and Dean let Amy Pond drag him farther into the apartment. More accurately a penthouse, Dean realized as she showed off the bathroom. The bathroom was a ton of white with blue accents. Bright and clean.

They passed a door that Amy said belonged to her office and then the hallway split into two. “The left is the master bedroom, and therefore mine,” she told him. She let go of him and twisted the other door handle. “This will be your room.”

Amy walked into the room. She spun around, hair in a perfect red halo as she moved, and gave him a ‘well come on’ look.

“People rarely say no to you, huh,” Dean said as he walked slowly into the room.

“Most people never want to,” Amy teased.

The room was as nice as the rest of the place. It had a queen-sized bed and dark wood furniture in sharp contrast to the pale cream walls. A desk, a dresser, a big enough bed to share. Perfect.

Amy sat down on the bed and crossed one leg over another. “Well, Mr. Winchester? What do you think?”

“I think there’s no freaking way I can afford this,” Dean replied with a sigh.

“I’m only going to ask for three hundred a month,” Amy said.

“I don’t need that kind of charity,” Dean snapped.

Amy frowned at him. “I already own the whole penthouse, Dean. It’s not like I pay rent myself anymore.”

“Why do you even need a roommate then?” Dean asked.

“I don’t need one. I want one. This place is too big for one person. I don’t like living alone.” Amy’s eyes as they met his had a kind of sadness. He’d seen that kind of look before. On Dad when he’d come back from hunting for Azazel and coming up with nothing, on Ellen when Jo had asked for something nice for Christmas and she couldn’t afford it. Way back, on Mom whenever Dad fought with her. One of the only things he could remember about her was that same sadness in her eyes. The kind of sadness that lived deep inside and wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Amy didn’t want to be alone, but she’d gotten choosy about roommates? She wanted some kind of company that could understand her. Or maybe just someone who wasn’t going to pry into her every thought and overanalyze everything. No demands. No pressures. 

Fuck. He could understand that. How many times had Sam tried to lecture him about what he was or wasn’t feeling? How many arguments with Bobby that he was doing fine and there was no need to worry about him? A little bit of empathetic silence could go a long way.

And damn, didn’t everyone trust him a shit ton already? Somehow he’d given them the impression that he was a good guy. Not that he wasn’t, but how was Jack and Cas so sure so damn fast? 

Dean dropped his bag onto the desk beside the door and then sat down on the bed beside her. He ran his hand over his mouth and then stared down at his own hands. “It’s a great place. Really.”

“But,” Amy said for him.

“But I don’t like handouts,” Dean said with a sigh. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “You could easily ask for six times that amount for rent in this area.”

“I don’t want to,” Amy said.

“I’ve got Cas practically spoon-feeding me a whole brand new life,” Dean told her as he drifted his eyes away from her. Better to be distant. Lack emotion in his face. Try to let her down as gently, but sternly as he could. “I can’t take any more stranger’s charity.”

“This won’t be charity,” Amy replied. She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Jack told me, you know, that you’re basically homeless.”

“Jack’s got a big mouth,” Dean said and glared at the doorway.

“You’re being given a chance here, Dean.” Amy nudged him again and Dean had to look at her before she would speak again. Her face had gotten solemn. All the childish glee had fled when they’d started talking, but now she’d gone from the sad kid on her own to the grown-up with a purpose. “Someone gave me a chance once. A friend. I got to see the world with him and Rory. And that gave me the courage to stop waiting for things to happen to me. To make things happen for myself. This is your chance for a new start.”

“I met them randomly on the internet,” Dean complained.

“So? I met my friend in my garden. Who cares where you met them?”

“I don’t deserve this,” Dean said. “I’m not worth all this.”

“You’re not that thick, are you?” Amy demanded. “This isn’t about worthiness, Dean. It’s opportunity. Are you going to be so stupid and let this pass you by?”

“Yeah, you thought that sentence was helping?” Dean asked.

“Look, Jack was given a few chances at a better life, and I was given one, too,” Amy said. “We want to give you that same kind of chance. And at some point, you can give someone else that chance.”

Dean wiped his mouth. Amy had a good argument. He couldn’t keep holding out either. He was looking for something to do with his life. People kept wanting him to find something. Anything. He wasn’t going to get many more second chances. So this felt like a freaking fairy tale, so what? Sam always had that insane optimism that good things could happen to them. Dean had assumed that something good would happen to Sam, not him. Nothing good ever happened to Dean.

Except maybe this.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean relented.

“Oh it’s not that easy,” Amy teased. “You need to answer some questions first.”

“Uh, of course.”

“Do you use drugs?”

“Never.”

“Favorite band?” Amy asked while pouting her lips a bit. She used the same pout for the cameras.

“Led Zeppelin.”

“Are you a light sleeper?”

“Only when I might need to wake up fast.”

Amy nodded. “Okay. Only one more important question, will you remember to put the toilet seat down?” she asked dramatically.

Dean laughed. “I can try.”

“Suppose that’s all I can ask for.” Amy stood up from the bed. “So, if you’ll take the room, I’ll officially accept you as my roommate.”

Dean glanced around the room again. A room. A real room with a bed that probably hadn’t seen a few hundred bodies on it. A place to call his. Better yet, he could leave anytime he needed to. He didn’t have to stay if things didn’t work out. Amy wouldn’t be left in a lurch if he suddenly wasn’t here. She didn’t need him like Sammy had once upon a time.

No one needed him. They wanted him around for the sake of him.

Dean ran his hand along the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’ll take it.”

Amy smiled. “Great. Let’s go tell your boys.”


	23. Dad's Ring

Dean jiggled his leg while the phone rang. “Come on,” he muttered. California time, it was, what, three p.m. there? Was Sam so caught up in college stuff already that he couldn’t pick up the damn phone? Maybe he should’ve been the bigger brother and put this phone call in sooner, but there was no way Sam wouldn’t answer him, right?

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said.

“Hey,” Dean greeted in return with a sigh. He grinned to himself. “How you been, man?”

“Uh, good.” There was a long pause that went when on too long. Suddenly Dean’s well-thought out confessional disappeared off his mind. So Sam continued first, “Look, I’m sorry for taking off like that.”

“No, I, uh, get it. I wasn’t exactly, you know, receptive or listening or whatever.” Dean couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. He took a deep breath. Here came the tricky part. “I got something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got an apartment,” Dean said proudly. Not ever having a place to call home, he’d have to admit that he liked not having to worry when he woke up about whether the caretaker had noticed the fake credit card.

After another long moment, Sam asked in disbelief, “How?”

Dean cleared his throat. “A friend loaned me some money.”

“You don’t have any friends with that kind of money,” Sam replied.

Dean leaned his head back and counted to three before saying, “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I think I know almost everything about you, Dean.”

Dean stood up and paced. “You don’t know about this.”

“Well, then tell me. Where are you really getting the money for an apartment?” Sam demanded. “Another credit card scheme?”

“I got it on a loan,” Dean said.

“Loan fraud?” Sam said. “That’s stepping it up on the felonies department.”

“There’s no fraud, okay? It’s totally legit.”

“Who’d you get the money from?”

“This guy named Cas. I met him online.”

“So you’re trusting strangers now?” Sam asked hotly.

Hearing Sam’s anger, Dean couldn’t help the rising pulse and anger in his own voice. He snapped, “Considering the stranger is one of my boyfriends, yeah, I am.”

Silence. Sam didn’t say anything. Dean had to remind himself to breathe. “I, I didn’t want to tell you like that,” he managed.

“One of your boyfriends?” Sam repeated with wonder. “You’re gay?”

“I’m not gay!” Dean shouted. “It’s possible to like mulitple sexes. Why doesn’t anyone ever consider that?”

“Okay. Geesh. But Dean, holy crap. I mean, you’ve never said anything. Ever.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Dean replied as he began pacing the space between his bed and desk.

“Boyfriends though?”

“Yeah. It’s this arrangement we’ve got. They’re a couple and I’m dating both of them.”

“And you met them online?”

“Yeah,” Dean told him.

Sam let out a scoffing sigh. “And now you’re borrowing money off of them and living in their apartment?”

“Not their apartment. A friend of theirs,” Dean said defensively.

“How long have you even known these guys?” Sam demanded. 

“Does it matter?” Dean demanded. He stopped and spun towards the window. As if that made a damn difference on the phone. He could just never stand still in an argument. 

“Yeah, I think it does,” Sam said. “You’re borrowing money from them and living with a friend? And you’re in some kind of relationship with them?”

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” Dean snapped.

“Happy that you’re letting some two strangers play sugar daddies?” Sam returned. And in that moment, Sam sounded just like Dad. If Dean said anything about it, Sam would probably just say Dad would’ve said it too. In this case, he’d be right. Dad would be pissed about this.

“They’re just helping me until I can find some kind of work,” Dean argued.

“Right. And you don’t have to put out or anything.”

“It’s not like that.”

“So you haven’t slept with them?” Sam asked.

“I thought you’d be a little more understanding,” Dean replied. He crossed his free arm over his chest.

“I don’t know why.”

“Because Bobby and Ellen are,” he said.

“Bobby and Ellen got to know before me?” Sam said. Dean hadn’t appreciated that tone in Sammy’s voice when they were on good terms--and considering they hadn’t talked since Sam had ditched him in northern Illinois, he didn’t think they were even on decent terms. Fighting like this--well he wanted to reach through the phone and punch him. Not that Dean ever hit Sam--except that one time after Dad died when they’d both gotten way out of hand--but he certainly wanted to.

“Seems like it’s a mistake telling you anything about it,” Dean answered. “Things are good, Sam. I’ve got people interested in me. I have my own room now.”

“But no way to pay for it,” Sam repeated. “Except, you know, sleeping with two guys.”

“Oh screw you,” Dean said. He snapped the phone shut and threw it at the pillows on the bed.

It rang.

With his hands on his waist, Dean glared at it and let it go.

The ringtone stopped for a second. Then it began again.

Dean wiped his lip and then snatched the phone up from the bed. He answered, “Damn it, Sam--”

“Whoa, big guy, I’m not Sam,” Jack said.

Dean wiped his brow with his thumb. He sat down on the edge of the bed, hanging his head lower, and muttered, “Crap. Sorry. I was fighting with my brother.” He took a shaky breath and lifted his head again. “He’s not exactly, approving, of uh.” He couldn’t say anymore words.

Jack waited a heartbeat before saying, “Did he just find out?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. His voice was shaking. Water burned at his eyes. He pushed the forming tears away. Nope. He would not cry. Men didn’t cry about freaking fights with their brothers.

“Maybe he’ll come around. Just needs some time. It can be a lot to adjust to.”

“Yeah.” Dean hung his head and ran his fingers through the back of his hair. One breath, two, and the world became an easier place again. “What’d you call to talk about?”

“Was calling to see how you were doing. Maybe set up a date for tomorrow night,” Jack said.

“Amy’s having some kind of party. I could check. See if you guys could come?”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Awesome. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” Dean ended the call and shoved the phone into a pocket.

Before walking out of the bedroom, he took a few deep breaths. Let out a groan of annoyance, frustration, and irritation, and then stepped out.

Amy had the speakers in the living room blasting some kind of trending music that Dean had been doing his best to ignore most of the afternoon. She had a pile of papers scattered over the couch and coffee table. Her glasses were perched at the end of her nose. Without even looking up, she said, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey. Uh. I don’t wanna be a bother.”

Amy glanced up from the papers. “Never a good way to start.”

“The party tomorrow night. Is it okay if Jack and Cas come?”

“Sure. No problem.” Her eyes flicked down to her papers for a second. With a sudden glee, she called out as Dean turned around. “Oh, hey.”

Dean looked back at her. “What?”

“Tell Cas he can’t wear a suit. Only people trying too hard to impress me and my friends wear suits to my parties.”

“I’ll pass it along.” Dean went back to his room.

His room. Words he kinda liked.

He dialed Jack and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey,” Jack answered.

“It’s cool if you guys come tomorrow night,” Dean told him. “Amy said Cas can’t wear a suit.”

Jack chuckled. “Her house, her rules, I guess.”

“So I’ll see you guys later.”

“Yup. Probably around nine or ten.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” Dean ended the phone call, closed the door, and pretended not to be bent out of shape about Sammy for the next hour. He wouldn’t call Bobby and bitch about it. More than likely, Sam had already done that. Screw it. He was a man and he’d handle his own damn problems. Sam would either have to accept the program or just not talk to him. Simple as that. 

\--------  
Guests started showing up to Amy’s about seven o’clock that Saturday night. Dean had been out looking for work most of the day, but had come back in time to change clothes. He had on a pair of worn jeans—all his jeans were worn these days. They hugged his hips and the knees were close to threadbare. His black t-shirt was faded and had shrunk—though apparently he’d shrunk some himself since he’d gotten it a year back. He tossed on a long-sleeved plaid shirt and rolled the sleeves up.

When he’d emerged from the bedroom, Amy glanced over him. No one else had shown up at that point. Just the two of them. Even in a simple skirt and blouse, she managed to look classy. She crinkled her nose at him. “Is that what you’re wearing tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He glanced down. “I don’t exactly have much else,” he added defensively.

“Lose the plaid.”

“You’re going to tell me how to dress?” Dean asked.

“My house, my party, I am,” Amy replied. She stood up from the couch. “You’re a very good-looking man. You don’t need to distract from that. So, take the plaid off.”

Dean twisted the shirt off and tossed it into his room. When he came back out, he demanded, “Better?”

“Much,” Amy said in an exaggerated way that made Dean want to laugh. She grinned at him and he had a hard time not smiling back at her. Reflex around an intelligent happy woman, really. “Help me set up?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

That had happened hours ago. Dean had helped her set up a few food trays and lay out some alcohol and a few mixers, some glasses and a thing of ice.

When Amy’s friends had started showing up, Dean had poured himself some whiskey and tried to hide in a corner. Except Amy wouldn’t let him hide. She kept dragging him out by the arm and showing him off to a new set of people. “This is Dean,” she’d say, “my roommate.” She threw a lot of emphasis on roommate.

So, he shook hands and did his best not to say anything stupid. Which considering Amy’s friends all seemed way out of his league in every way, led to him to not saying much of anything. More than one person had asked about what he did for a living, and he’d done his best to switch the topic.

One conversation, though, stuck out. “Between jobs?” a man asked.

“Currently, yeah.”

“Been in anything I’ve seen?”

Dean frowned. “Uh, what?”

“You’re one of Amy’s friend. One of her really good-looking friends. So, you’re either an actor or a model,” the man continued.

“Neither,” Dean replied.

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Really?” He appraised Dean. Ran his eyes over him and Dean kinda felt like a giant piece of meat. “Would you like to be?”

“No, hell no,” Dean answered. “I’m so not interested.”

Amy was waving at him to come over, so he excused himself and headed over to her. She looped her arm in his again—he was starting to get used to that—and whispered, “Sorry. I should’ve known not to leave Oliver alone with you. Did he try to talk you into show business?”

“Yeah,” Dean muttered.

“Sorry.”

A hand slid across the small of his back and he jumped. Jack chuckled and kissed behind his left ear.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” Dean snapped.

Jack only laughed more.

Amy let go of Dean’s arm and Jack took the chance to loop an arm around him from behind. He also stole the drink out Dean’s hand.

Room full of people who didn’t know him and Jack was all over him already. One woman halfway across the room met Dean’s eyes, glanced up and down them, and then smirked before turning away. Amy was standing right there and staring at him. Dean struggled to breathe.

Jack finished the drink. “Whiskey?”

“Yeah,” Dean managed.

Amy frowned at him while Jack moved away. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” Dean told her. “I just need some air.” He made a beeline for the balcony and slipped out through the door.

The balcony wasn’t huge, but no one else was out there. Just Dean, the darkness of night, and the glimmering New York City lights. He gulped down air. The world stopped spinning. Thank God. He didn’t know if he could handle vomiting out here with the room full of people who could fucking see him do it.

The door behind him opened and Dean snapped around. Cas. Cas not in a suit for once. He had on a dark blue dress shirt that looked a smidge too big for him and dark gray slacks. Even in the dark, the shirt helped drag out the brightness of his blue eyes. Maybe two days’ scruff graced his jaw. “Hello, Dean,” he said. That voice, his clothes, gave off an impression of sexy in a careless sort of way.

“Hi,” Dean said. The tightness in his chest had edged away. “I, uh, just needed a moment.”

Cas approached the edge of the balcony and leaned on it next to him. “You were having a panic attack.”

Dean stared down at his hands. At his dad’s ring. He fiddled with it. “Yeah.”

“If Jack’s causing them--”

“I like having him close,” Dean interrupted. “No one’s ever.” He took a deep breath. “Not a lot of affectionate people in my life.” Dean glanced over at Cas. “It’s nice. And weird. And I just haven’t gotten used to being, well, ‘out,’ I guess.”

“You’re over thirty.”

“And never told a damn soul until last week.”

Cas frowned. “Why not?”

Dean let out a long sigh. “Look, I’ll get over them, okay? They’re not a big deal. I’m just freaking out over nothing.”

“Dean--” Cas began.

The door opening for a second time and distracted them. Jack made his way through with a drink in either hand. He had a good look going, too. Dress slacks, a white shirt, and a pinstripe waistcoat. Dean couldn’t see him earlier from their position.

Damn Jack looked good. Both of them did. Handsome beautiful men who happened to be into him. They belonged to this party of rich powerful interesting people and how the hell had he ended up here? He didn’t belong among them. He belonged in places like the Roadhouse and shitty motels that didn’t know the meaning of the word clean. A few clicks on the internet and he’d wound up here? Talk about winning the fucking lottery. 

He took a deep breath and remembered what Amy had said the other day. Everyone deserved a chance, even him. He needed to not screw this up because he was an emotional wreck.

Dean took the glass from Jack. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean told him. He downed about half of what Jack brought him in a single go.

They were both watching him.

“What?” he demanded.

“You’re not okay,” Cas said sternly. “You’re shaking.”

“What? No, I’m not.” Dean glanced down at his hand holding the glass. His hand was shaking. The realization struck his mind and suddenly his knees felt weak. Before he could collapse, he sat down in one of the patio chairs and set the glass down on the table beside it.

“Dean, if you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to--” Cas began.

“I want to be!” Dean snapped. He wiped his mouth and leaned forward. He stared down at the concrete balcony instead of responding right away. Quieter, he finally said, “I want to, okay?”

Cas sat down in the seat beside him. “Maybe it would help if you talked to us,” he said.

“Look, I told you. I haven’t had boyfriends before,” Dean replied. “Takes some getting used to.”

Edgy silence hung on the air. Dean could hear someone laughing through the glass. The party inside the room looked so warm and lively and here he was fucking everything up because he couldn’t keep his shit together.

“Who did you tell?” Cas asked suddenly.

Dean frowned. “What?”

“Last week, who was the first person you told about us?” Cas wondered.

“Ellen,” Dean replied. “Family friend.”

“Did you have an attack?” Cas continued.

Jack grabbed one of the other patio chairs and managed to squeeze it in on Dean’s other side. Their knees lightly touched. Dean didn’t know if he should pull his leg away or let it stay. He fiddled with his father’s ring again.

“No,” Dean admitted hoarsely. “But when Ellen told Jo—her daughter, I did.”

“You’ve been having panic attacks every time someone discovers that you’re sexually attracted to men,” Cas said, “when the information is beyond your control. Jack’s public displays of affection caused attacks because people could simply see for themselves that he likes you and your acceptance of physical contact implied reciprocal feelings.”

“Be a little more blunt about it, could ya?” Dean said. His eyes were burning. Fuck. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to fuck this up even more already.

Cas tilted his head.

Dean let out a loud ragged sigh.

“Why?” Jack asked softly. “Why does it bother you that people know?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean replied quickly. Too quickly. He went to stand, but Jack put a hand on his leg so he stopped.

“Why?” Jack repeated.

“Look, it was years ago and he’s dead anyway so I don’t know why I let it get to me at all,” Dean said. The words had tumbled out of his mouth. Maybe if Jack didn’t have such sympathetic eyes he could’ve kept it inside.

“Who’s dead?” Cas asked.

“My dad,” Dean answered. “Couple years now.”

“It seems that whatever happened between you is the source of the anxiety,” Cas said.

“It’s no big deal,” Dean told them. “Really, I’m making something out of nothing and I should just shut up about it. You guys didn’t sign up to hear me bitch all night. Let’s just go back inside and--”

“Dean,” Jack said with a quiet patience. “What happened?” Cas mirrored Jack’s concerned tone of voice with his expression.

A man didn’t talk about his problems to complete strangers. Certainly didn’t lay his problems on other men. He carried his weight in the world and he didn’t bitch about it. Didn’t complain. Didn’t let it get to him.

But Jack and Cas were waiting for him to talk. Kept asking. Kept wanting to know. Telling them could fuck everything up, but saying nothing would screw his chances at this whole relationship thing right here. A little trust. And he trusted them. If he didn’t, he was being a fucking moron at this point.

“I was nineteen,” Dean said. He stared at Jack’s hand still resting on his knee. Part of him wanted to hold Jack’s hand, but if this went south, he’d wanna die if Jack took his hand away. “I was old enough to buy my own porn. I’d messed around with a couple of guys in high school.” He shrugged. “So I bought a couple of gay porn mags and my dad found my stash one night.” He let out a shaky breath. Fuck. Breathing right would be nice right about now. He had to clear his throat before he could finish. “Dad didn’t approve. Said that no son of his was going to be some sissy faggot and if he ever caught me with anything like that again, I wasn’t going to be family anymore. I tried explaining to him that I like both, but he wouldn’t listen and wouldn’t talk about it, so I stowed liking guys and kept my mouth shut.”

Jack had gone completely still at a singular word in the speech. Anger clouded Jack’s eyes. Something fiercer and darker than when he’d gotten upset at Cas. Cas was staring at Dean too, but his face had gotten unreadable again.

“Let’s not make a mountain out of it,” Dean said. He waved his hand as if it could wave away the confession. “It’s nothing.”

“That isn’t nothing, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to sit out here all night and ruin the vibe of Amy’s party,” Dean snapped.

“A father isn’t supposed to--” Cas began.

“Look, the man was never winning any awards in the best dad category,” Dean interrupted. “Can we just not make this a thing, okay? I don’t need any freaking pity parties.”

“You were arguing with your brother,” Jack said. That anger hadn’t edged out of his voice yet.

Dean replied defensively, “Not about my sexuality. We’re brothers. We argue about a lot of shit, but he didn’t say crap about me being into men. Well, not past being surprised about me being into guys.”

Silence again. Dean was getting to the point of wanting to beg one of them to say something when Cas rose from his seat. “I’m afraid if we’re gone much longer, our absence will cause concern.”

“They can see us,” Dean pointed out.

“And a lengthy talk out on a dark balcony indicates an argument, which we’re not having,” Cas replied. “I don’t want to cause Amy any stress about us. I’m going to head back in.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Jack promised. When Dean frowned, Jack only replied with a slight forced smile. He waited until Cas was through the door before he told Dean, “I didn’t know. I’ll stop--”

“Don’t you dare,” Dean said with a strangled note. “I like it. I want to not freak about it. So don’t stop being you in public just because I’m a headcase.”

Jack smiled at him. Genuine and flirty again, he leaned in closer. “I was going to say sneaking up on you.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay. Yeah, that you could knock off a little,” Dean agreed. “For now, at least.”

Jack offered his hand to Dean. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

Taking Jack’s hand and walking in would be a clear sign. The whole freaking party probably already knew. If someone didn’t, the hand-holding would give them away. People would know. 

This whole little experiment was about having a new life. About getting what he wanted in life. Right now, he wanted to have Jack and Cas in it, and wanted to make them happy. Hell, he wanted to be happy. Screw what everyone else thought. Dean reached out for Jack’s hand.

His left hand had Dad’s ring.

“One second,” Dean muttered. He gripped the ring and tugged it off.

It weighed in his hand heavier than it had any right to. Dean stared at it for a moment, wondering what to do. Then, on impulse, he stood and whipped it as hard as he could out into the early summer night.

Finally, he could breathe like a normal human being should.

Jack had raised an eyebrow at him chucking the ring. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah. Crap tons.” Dean grabbed his drink with his right hand and Jack’s hand with his left. “C’mon. I’m tired of dragging us down. Let’s party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In many ways, you can consider Chapter 23 the end of "Book 1" (If I'd decided to go that route.)


	24. Just Go

A couple of hours drifted past. After what had happened on the balcony, Jack thought that Dean would want to hole up in his room. Instead, he’d made himself another drink and then wound up correcting someone trying to pour one badly. For a good twenty minutes, Dean showed off while he mixed.

Cas had gotten drawn into some conversation about philosophical interpretations of the Bible versus various scholars’ texts. Every word of the Christian literature seemed burned into Cas’s brain. Wasn’t just Christian text either. He could quote scripture from half a dozen different religious works. All that brain power and yet he had moments where he didn’t understand the complexity of Dean’s ‘macho’ problems.

Still, he made for a pretty picture. He sat on the arm of the sofa since the rest of the seats had been taken. Cas had donned Jack’s blue shirt because Jack had insisted the color would be better than any of his normal wear. The choice had been right. Even from across the room, Cas’s eyes popped bright blue against the dark of the shirt.

Dean had gotten lured into a knowledge competition. Someone had claimed they knew plenty about the history of rock music, and another person had only challenged with a few basic questions. When the first man had gotten something wrong, Dean had jumped into correct him. Now he was showing off and bragging. The first man kept asking for obscure details or facts and Dean answered without hesitation. Once or twice, the man had had to double check the information with his smartphone, but Dean still turned out right. A broad happy smile had crossed his face as they kept going and Dean kept on winning.

For a moment, Dean’s voice drew Cas’s attention. Jack watched him watch the younger man. A subtle, too-long look, more than casual observation from what Jack had seen of him. A small smile on Cas’s lips. Then Cas’s eyes scanned the crowd for Jack. Their gazes met and Cas’s smile grew a fraction wider. Then he was dragged back into his own conversation.

Amy joined Jack in leaning against the wall. She imitated his posture and then bumped up against him. “So, do I get to know?”

“Know what?” Jack asked.

“Bout what happened out on the balcony?”

“Ah. No,” Jack said. “Secret talk.”

“Not even a hint?”

Jack pursed his lips together. Amy didn’t even say anything. She just looked up at him with those huge eyes. He sighed. “I wish I could go back in time and kick someone’s ass right about now, but that’s all I’ve got to say. Don’t ask anymore and don’t ask him.” Actually, he wished he could go back and crack Mr. Winchester’s skull, but if he mentioned that to Amy, she wouldn’t let the subject go until he explained why.

“All right,” Amy agreed. A man in a suit waved at her, trying to invite her over, and Amy rolled her eyes where only Jack could see. Afterwards, she managed to plaster a smile on her face and joined the man and his friends in conversation.

Dean came back to Jack with a coke and whiskey for each of them. Jack took the drink and slid his arm around Dean’s waist. Even in his buzzed state, Dean stiffened first. He didn’t pull away, didn’t make a face. He just froze in place for a few seconds. Then he coughed to clear his throat and took a swig of his drink.

The sheer bravery Dean had in him to try and soldier through the potential attacks made Jack want to kiss him. But such a bold display could cause a full-on attack and that would spoil the comfortable way Dean’s body fit against his.

A smile couldn’t be helped though. 

Dean snorted. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?”

“Only good things,” Jack cooed.

Dean couldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah. Whatever.”

And just like that Dean was trying to close off from him. Trying to hide. That look on his face, that way he withdrew inside his own head, made Jack want to push the younger man against the wall. While Cas would love the display, Dean would probably get upset. Probably. Some submissive-in-the-bedroom types got off on a whole room watching a bit of dominance.

They didn’t know each other too well yet, so Jack would take what he could get. Pushing his way into Dean’s life wouldn’t do any good. Getting him into this room, into New York, had been harder than Jack had thought it would be. No sense in making Dean more uncomfortable.

“Dude, you’re staring at me,” Dean said. His cheeks had gotten ruddier. When he was embarrassed, or flustered, he didn’t turn bright red like Ianto. He became rigid and his whole body infused with more vibrant colors of the natural order.

“You’re hot and you’re in my arms,” Jack murmured next to his ear. “Of course I’m going to stare.”

“Cas’s looking,” Dean replied.

“Cas has been watching us all night.”

“Really? I haven’t seen it.”

“He’s sneaky like that.”

Dean snorted and took a sip of his drink.

Balthazar came out of the bathroom. Jack had gotten a glimpse of him coming in, his arrival getting swallowed up by a mass of Amy’s closer friends, but hadn’t seen much of him until now. Having been to Amy’s enough to know she hated suits, Balthazar had donned jeans, a white dress shirt, and his usual dark blazer. Jack had met him not too long after hooking up with Cas and Balthazar often drunk texted laments about his ill-fortune. “Jack! Knew you were about here somewhere,” he said. He glanced over Dean and then addressed Jack again as he leaned against the wall beside them. “Don’t tell me you broke up with little Cassie for him? Not that he isn’t ungodly gorgeous himself.”

Jack laughed softly while Dean glared at the new man. Jack ran his thumb lightly against the top of Dean’s jeans. “No. Cas and I are still together. Balthazar, this is Dean.”

Balthazar and Dean shook hands. “You can’t be so stupid to cheat on him out in public. He’s even in the same room.” Balthazar turned his eyes to Dean. “I hope he’s not wrapped you up in some game between the two of them.”

“We’re all dating,” Dean replied.

“Really?” Balthazar brought his attention back to Jack. “You’re not having one over on the poor boy, are you?”

Jack tightened his arm around Dean and kissed his cheek next to his ear. The younger man was tensing up like a cat discovering someone not welcome in his territory. “We’re not,” Jack replied.

“How novel of you,” Balthazar said with his snobbish-but-joking kind of sarcasm. “I should find so liberal minded partners.”

“Hey--” Dean growled.

“He’s not being insulting,” Jack interrupted.

“I’m not. In truth, I’m quite jealous,” Balthazar told them. “Sounds like fun.”

Dean settled against Jack again. “Okay, whatever.”

“Ah, I should probably mosey onwards. There’s always someone at these parties desperate enough to go home with me,” Balthazar joked.

Not much longer after that, the party started winding down. People were saying their goodbyes, dropping their glasses off in the kitchen or leaving them behind. The door was opening and closing so often that Jack was pretty sure they could make a good song tempo out of it. Amy turned off the music to clue in the few people still talking. Soon enough only a few friends were left. By this point, Jack had finally claimed a spot on the couch. Dean was fussing with the impromptu bar while Cas was out of his line of sight. Jack wished his boyfriends would come cuddle already.

Cas dropped into the seat next to Jack. For a second, Jack had thought his wish had worked, but Cas had that look on his face. That one Jack hated more than anything. “I have to go. The Angels--” Cas insisted. 

“I’ll come with,” Jack interrupted.

“You can’t.”

“We’re in New York. I’m supposed to be guarding you.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not!” Jack snapped. His voice had gotten louder than he intended and he felt a rush of anger that he typically could buckle down on. “Okay. Maybe a little bit buzzed, but not drunk.”

“Your effectiveness would be limited even if--”

“Even if I could go,” Jack finished. He leaned his head back against the couch. “Fine.”

“Jack--” Cas said.

Events lined themselves up for Jack and his growing frown deepened the lines on his face. Cas had spent the whole night letting Jack drink while not having a drop himself. Had been watching from afar, but not cozying up to either of them. Now that he thought about it, Jack wasn’t sure they’d spoken more than a few words since Dean’s confessions on the balcony. Except for the time he’d brought both Dean and him drinks. Cas had let him get drunk. On purpose.

Jack pushed up from the couch. “You knew about this all night, didn’t you?”

That guilty look crossed Cas’s features. Jack’s second least favorite expression.

Dean glanced their way and Jack turned his back on both of them. One he was too angered by and the other he didn’t want to show raw emotion. He heard Cas move. “Just go,” Jack said. Better this way. Better not to look at him trying to apologize with those blue eyes. Cas had made a promise and here he was sidelining him again. On purpose.

Did he mean anything to Cas? Anything at all? Anything more than a nice ass and pretty lips?

The mean, spiteful thought swirled in Jack’s mind. 

After a second, Cas and Dean whispered about something. Jack didn’t care. Didn’t pay attention. He stared out at the night beyond the glass windows. The whole time. Cas had known he wasn’t going to stick around the whole time. Jack stepped closer to the glass and debated on sitting out in the summer air again. He could grab another drink first. Two, maybe. Three. Four. A whole damn bottle. Anything to lessen the brewing storm in his mind. Anything to make the pain go away.

Cas didn’t need him. Not ever. Not for anything other than amusement and maybe a cover story from time to time. He was just a whore to him. To be paid with a nice life and shiny toys every once in a while to keep him happy. Dean was probably the most expensive toy Cas had found yet.

He frowned at his own reflection--his form only slightly visible against the glass. 

Those thoughts weren’t fair. Cas loved him. He did. God, that sex back in Chicago had meant something. It had. No one could lie that well with their bodies, not even Jack. Maybe Cas didn’t--couldn’t--show love in the traditional ways. Maybe he just didn’t know how to show it. Hell, Cas had issues showing he wanted sex without being flat out blunt and asking for ‘intercourse.’ Foreplay was something he’d had to work on. That freaking job of his wasn’t helping. Everytime Cas came home from work, Jack practically had to drag him out of the hard exterior he’d thrown up.

Or maybe he needed to stop fooling himself. Maybe Cas didn’t love him. Maybe he, and now Dean, were just convenient playthings for him after all. Baubles to show off at parties. To be seen coming in and out of an apartment. Evidence that Cas had a life and was more than a robot.

A bottle of whiskey. Jack could just keep drinking until he could ignore the doubt. Until the pain became a dull throb he could forget. Not all of the booze had been put away in the cabinets. Even if it had, he knew where Amy kept it. He could go back to the way he was before Cas found him. Lost in a bottle. Not giving a shit where he was. Moving from warm bed to warm bed.

No. No, he owed it to himself to be better than that. 

Jack saw Dean’s reflection in the door’s glass instead of hearing him approach. Dean had either been too quiet, or he’d lost track of his surroundings for a while.

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted.

“Bullshit,” Dean said as he wrapped his arms around him.

Jack almost shoved his arms away. Almost demanded to be left alone with his brooding storm of drunken anger. Then he remembered the way the light had gleamed off that silver ring before it disappeared. The kind of peaceful triumph Dean had had when he’d let it go. Dean had taken a chance on them. He’d shown how he was willing to let them into his life. Least Jack could do was let Dean in a fraction.

“I’ll be fine,” Jack replied with a soft sigh. He could feel the anger sliding away with the exhalation.

“Yeah. Okay.” No heavy emphasis on the words. No demanding. Just the warmth of his arms around Jack.

God, they had won the lottery finding him, hadn’t they? Jack closed his eyes and let out another cleansing sigh. Sheer luck that they’d picked Dean up in that chat room. He was hot and caring and smarter than he let on and already Jack never wanted to let him go.

They stood at the window with Dean’s arms around him and head against his shoulder for a short while. Jack heard the last few guests saying goodbye to Amy and then another door inside the apartment closing.

“Tired?” Dean asked.

“Exhausted,” Jack admitted.

“C’mon. Let’s get to bed.”

They went to Dean’s room and didn’t bother turning on a light. Even this high up, the residual glow of lights from New York gave them a glimmer to see by. The room itself still looked too much like a guest room. Dean had his bag in the corner and while Jack could see it was mostly empty, it had a few things left inside. Not ready to move in yet. Not completely. Jack had had a few years like that himself. Then he’d met Cas and that had ended. He’d moved in. He’d cared.

And Cas kept leaving him out in the cold.

No. Jack wasn’t going to start down that mental path again. Not with Dean yanking off his t-shirt and sliding out of his jeans only feet away. Far better places for his mind and attention.

Dean’s hands hesitated at the top of his boxers. Then he rolled his eyes, whispered something to himself, and pushed the boxers down his legs.

“You normally sleep naked?” Jack asked while he stripped.

“When I’m pretty sure no one’s going to try and kill me in my sleep, yeah,” Dean said.

Jack chuckled.

“Really wasn’t a joke.” Dean climbed onto the bed and under the covers.

“Who tried to kill you?” Jack asked with a frown.

“Uh uh. We’ve done this once already tonight. I’m beat. I don’t wanna be up all night thinking about that shit.”

Jack unbuckled his belt and pushed down the rest of his clothes. “Fair enough,” he said quietly as he climbed into bed beside Dean. They scooted close together, settled in. Jack stole a long kiss that he’d wanted all night. His hand slid up and cupped the edge of Dean’s jaw. His fingers slid brushed at his short light brown hair. Warm and strong, Dean wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulders and drew him down. Welcomed him in. Like slow-pouring molasses, they slid their tongues against each other. Dean tasted like whiskey--warm and hypnotic in his own way. Instead of winding him up, Jack felt more tired, more at ease, finally at peace again. He drew back and brushed his thumb in a circle on Dean’s jaw. 

With half-closed eyes, Dean smiled and murmured, “Been waiting all night for that. Worth it.”

Jack grinned, though Dean probably couldn’t see him too well, and lightly brushed his lips against his. Then he relaxed into the bed, found a better way for their arms and legs to tangle together as they cuddled, and finally rested his head against the pillow.

Dean sighed contently and nuzzled him just a little. Just enough to make Jack hold him tighter.


	25. You Worry Over Nothing

The taxi pulled away. Castiel watched it flee down the street. While other cars roamed over the pavement, few other taxis bothered coming to this region of the city at this hour of the night. Too afraid. Hopefully this mission tonight would help change that.

Castiel didn’t like that he had to leave Jack in that angry and brooding state back at Amy’s apartment. He’d even needed to head home in order to change his outfit. A mission liked this required the suit and trenchcoat. He could have left Jack waiting for him at home, but Dean had had eyes for him. And when Jack was so moody, it would be better if he were comforted by someone. Though he would never say, Jack loathed being alone.

Jack and Dean. They already had such a warm bond between them. More than one person had remarked upon that at the party. Those that knew Castiel assumed that he and Jack had broken up. He’d had to correct them about the status of their relationship—and one half-whispered thought didn’t escape his attention. A woman had told her partner that she wouldn’t be surprised if Dean replaced him completely in their relationship.

Just go, Jack had said. Just go. So tired of everything with him. And Castiel had wanted to drag Jack into his arms. Had wanted to make him understand that he didn’t want to leave him. But he hadn’t had a choice. Already he had ran late to the meeting. Already he had put his standing with the Angels in jeopardy tonight. All Castiel could do was ensure that Jack didn’t have to be alone tonight.

Dean and Jack.

Castiel frowned. His brows pinched together. Should he worry about them? His bond to Dean existed, but it certainly wasn’t as strong as the one Jack had already cultivated with him. Then again, Castiel had a difficult time bonding with anyone lately.

“Are you ready, brother?” came Uriel’s booming voice.

Castiel twisted, glancing over his shoulder first, and faced his fellow Angel. Uriel had stepped out from a dark corner of shadows. “The others are here?”

“Almost,” Uriel said. He was grinning and smiling again. His eyes were lit up in joy.

Tearing his eyes away from Uriel, he strode past the taller man. “You should not take such pleasure in our task tonight.”

“Our mission is our mission, Castiel. One should find pleasure in their work.”

“One should not find joy in taking lives,” Castiel admonished.

“The people in that building are depraved. They are Demons,” Uriel replied.

“A life is a life.”

Uriel continued to walk smugly beside him. They left the main street and entered an alleyway. The Angels’ plans had dictated that Castiel not arrive right at doorstep of the correct the building. None of them did--that action would be highly suspicious to average authorities. Other Angels were waiting at a rendezvous point. Once everyone gathered, they’d make their strike. As per instructions, Uriel and Castiel would check the surrounding area one last time before the attack.

The profile had indicated that the best time of attack would be in the predawn hours. On the first floor of the building was a bar. At this hour, it had finished serving alcohol and the only remaining patrons were Demons. Of course the bar wasn’t the target. In the floor above the bar, several upper level Demons would be meeting, as they did every week. A back entrance would give Castiel and his team the needed access point.

As Uriel and Castiel walked to the edge of an alley, Castiel couldn’t help feeling tightness in his abdomen. He glanced around. The reports had professed this area should still be thick with foot traffic, but hardly anyone was in sight. Despite the noises of the road, everything remained still. Quiet. He had a sense that everyone and everything here was waiting.

“I don’t like this,” Castiel told Uriel. He grabbed the other man’s arm. “We should go.”

“This is our one chance, Castiel,” Uriel replied. “We must strike when we have the opportunity.”

“Something isn’t right,” Castiel answered. “There isn’t enough noise. A distinct lack of people.”

“It’s nearly four a.m., Castiel. What did you expect? A parade?” his companion asked.

“Your humor is not amusing. We should call off this attack.”

“You worry over nothing.”

Castiel let out a long sigh through his nose. He said nothing more to Uriel. Raphael had named his brother as the leader of this mission. Every choice about tactics should belong to Uriel. While Castiel could argue and advise all he liked, Uriel made the decisions.

Still, he didn’t have to share Uriel’s unnecessary glee. And he didn’t have to like these quiet streets and stillness.

Less than a block away from the building, Uriel let out a long low whistle. Finally a sound happened closer by. Footsteps on sidewalk and pavement couldn’t be erased from the air. Not entirely.

Three more Angels came up the alleyway. Gideon, Malachi, and Samandriel joined them at the corner. Not far from here, Rachmael would be waiting with the car. Despite their supreme power in the matter of law, the organization had discovered that matters went more smoothly if normal people did not interfere with proceedings.

“Are we ready?” Uriel asked as he patted Samandriel on the shoulder.

The others nodded a quick approval.

That wrongness still hadn’t left Castiel’s gut. He hung back. The plan didn’t specify who had to follow who--they hadn’t gotten that detailed this time around. Uriel led the charge as he liked to do. When they neared the building’s entrance, Castiel finally pulled his weapons—his blade in one hand and his gun in the other. The others had already taken theirs out.

Uriel opened the steel door with an omni-key the Angels had developed recently. It was a long black piece of metal that slid into a lock and, with the press of a button, expanded downward into a lock until the tumblrs slid into place. After one more glance back, Uriel swung the door wide open and raced up the stairs. Everyone followed him quickly.

By the time Castiel reached the top step, the room there had become a den of noises. At least two gunshots had gone off before he’d even gotten there. Scuffling and cursing greeted him. Castiel readied his blade.

And then heard a noise from behind.

He spun and glared down the stairs. Three Demon soldiers with guns were heading up to them. Castiel fired only four times and each one went down. Two more appeared at the bottom and snarled up at him. Taking three steps back, Castiel shut the second door that Uriel had been forced to open on his way up.

“We have company,” Castiel said. One Demon that Gideon had been fighting turned and tried to stab Castiel in the back. Before he had a chance, Castiel whirled and shoved the blade upwards into the Demon’s heart. He twisted it and then drew the blade back out.

Uriel savagely drew his blade out of the last living Demon—well former living Demon—in the room. The body dropped in the quiet two seconds before the Demons beyond the door pounded on it. “How are we?” Uriel demanded.

“Fine,” Gideon and Malachi responded immediately. Samandriel only nodded in response.

Castiel didn’t even bother. He pointed his blade point at the door. “Our exit is blocked by at least two.”

“We can take two,” Malachi said.

“Three were in the staircase before. I don’t know how many more have joined the two I saw,” Castiel replied.

The pounding on the door increased. Part of the door splintered.

“The only other exit takes us through the bar,” Samandriel said.

“No. They’ll have filled it with more soldiers,” Castiel warned.

“That outer door is considered the fire escape. There is no other exit,” Malachi needlessly reminded them.

Castiel nodded at the bay of windows on the other side of the room. “There are those.”

“Our orders are to take out as many of the Demons as possible,” Uriel countered.

“Not at the expense of ourselves!” Castiel shouted.

The argument ended there. Not because they reached any sort of agreement. No. Instead the door burst open, splinters of wood showering out from the door jab. Demons came into the room and the fight renewed.

A knocking began on the other door. The same heavy pounding.

This fight had gone from bad to hellish. Castiel didn’t stop moving. Neither did his brothers. When his gun ran dry, Castiel disarmed a Demon, shoved his blade through the Demon’s throat, and used the newly taken gun on the next one. Blood flew off his blade at every swing.

The Angels were not without their injuries. Castiel heard Samandriel scream in pain. Malachi stumbled. Demons landed blows on Castiel’s body as well. Something cracked in his chest. From the pain welling up, a rib, he’d guess. His face had at least one bruise developing.

For now, the adrenaline edged away the pain. The concentration on the fight made the injuries easier to ignore. At least the room seemed to work to their advantage. Gideon and Malachi helped Castiel secure the flow of Demons coming in the back door. Uriel and Samandriel covered the other door. Bodies were beginning to get in the way.

They couldn’t keep fighting forever. The amount of energy required to keep this activity up would exhaust them. One of them would slip up, and then they’d all be dead. 

“Uriel!” Castiel shouted. He stepped back—Malachi and Gideon could handle the Demon at the door—and shoved his gun into the back of his waistband. With the freed hand, he dug into his pocket and drew out a flashbang grenade.

Uriel saw it. He knew. “Cover!” he ordered. Vague enough that the Demons might not grasp it fast enough, but distinct enough for the Angels.

Castiel pulled the pin and the others dropped and covered their eyes and ears. He tossed the flash grenade out and closed his own eyes. It prevented the worse of the light from hitting him, but the light damaged his sight temporarily.

Someone was grabbing at him. Someone screaming his name. Something broke. Glass. Just in time, Castiel realized the others were jumping out the window and he was following them. They all landed roughly, but none as hard as Castiel and Gideon. Gideon’s leg snapped. They all heard it. When Castiel went to stand, he couldn’t put any weight on his left leg. His ankle gave out and he grimaced in pain. He slammed up against the wall.

“We have to move,” Uriel shouted. Those words were broken up by the ringing in Castiel’s head, but he got the message. Gideon couldn’t get moving on his own. Samandriel and Malachi had to help him. Castiel limped along behind until he let out a pained groan that Uriel noticed. Uriel swept up under his bad side and gave him support.

Of course the Demons could and did give chase. They hadn’t stumbled far enough away when the first of the Demons made her way out into the streets. Castiel reached back and found the gun where he had left it in his waistband. He pulled it out and fired at the oncoming Demons. One dropped. A few more hesitated. The Angels got around the corner.

Rachmael had the door open for them. She didn’t say anything about hearing gunshots or the shape the other Angels were in. They piled into the van with Uriel coming in last and slamming the door shut.

Without a word, Rachmael took off down the street. The van didn’t have any seats in the back. The getaway didn’t make riding in it any easier either. Uriel, still more capable of movement than some, maneuvered into the other spare front seat.

Castiel had warned Uriel. He had tried his hardest. Now they were broken and beaten in the back of the van. What should have been a simple mission had turned into a bloodbath. How many Demons had they killed? If Castiel hadn’t forced their hand with a flashbang, how long would Uriel have demanded they fight? Had Uriel ignored the signs of a set-up intentionally or had Castiel managed to guess on a gut instinct? Too many questions and too much adrenaline still making his head buzz. 

“We need a hospital,” Samandriel said. He had clutched onto Gideon in an effort to prevent them from bouncing too much.

“We can’t and you know it,” Uriel snapped. “Take us to one of the doctors. Not the closest.”

Castiel groaned as he tried to sit up—the attempt made futile by a bounce in the pavement. He lost his balance and smacked down onto the hard metal floor. From his new vantage point, he could see a bigger problem. “Go to the closest!” he shouted as he scrambled over to Gideon.

Samandriel frowned at him and Uriel replied, “I decide!”

Castiel rolled Gideon onto his stomach. The other Angel had slipped into unconsciousness. He hardly moaned even when Castiel took off his trenchcoat and shoved it against the wound on Gideon’s back. Blood that had pooled onto the bed of the van soaked into the knees of Castiel’s pants.

Uriel glanced into the back of the van and then told Rachmael, “Change your course. Do as he said.”

Anger surged through Castiel. A fellow brother was dying underneath his hands. The others had wounds. If Castiel hadn’t been carrying the grenade, they would have been overrun. They would have been dead. His own life—that mattered less. His companions would have been dead. Good soldiers. Dead. Because Uriel treated him like an inferior.

Samandriel was staring into Castiel’s face. “We killed many Demons,” Samandriel said. As always, Samandriel was the Angel he should be. Pride in their good work should be a comfort.Yet even in this moment, Samandriel showed confliction. The sheer worry in his expression only made Castiel’s anger that more justified. Samandriel could see what he saw. Gideon was dying.

“We didn’t have to walk into that ambush,” Castiel said.

“We did,” Uriel argued. “We killed top brass tonight, Castiel. Upper levels. The Demons will be reeling from this attack for weeks.”

Castiel gritted his teeth. He knew he should obey the one in charge. Protocol and doctrine demanded that Castiel obey. Obedience was important. Trust more so. Castiel’s jaw clenched tighter. Gideon had trusted Uriel’s decisions. Trusted the plan. And every second he was losing more and more blood into Castiel’s coat.

He wanted to lash out. He wanted to shout and scream and pound his fist into Uriel’s face until the other man could finally understand his point of view. Yet he couldn’t. Orders dictated that he keep his mouth quiet over his desired dissidence in front of inferiors.

For now. Once they reached Raphael, Castiel planned on telling him everything.


	26. The mess got under my skin.

Waking up in the bed was too new a feeling. The bed was softer and better than it had any right to be. Yesterday, getting out of it had been a fucking chore. This morning he had Jack wrapped around him and the comforter and light playing at the window. Jack looked at peace. Something handsome in the way he had to sleep with his body so entangled. His breath played on Dean’s neck.

Cas and Jack had seemed like a perfect couple when Dean had met them. Joking and teasing each other. The way they stared at each other. Like the rest of the world could burn and they’d have to catch fire before they noticed. Dean had seen the way they had sex. Intense didn’t seem like a strong enough word to cover their relationship. They knew the other’s body in a way only serious lovers ever could.

Sure, he’d seen them argue before, but damn if last night hadn’t broken his heart. Cas had had to go and Jack had gotten torn up about it and turned away. For a second, Cas had reached out, almost touched Jack. That look on his fucking face. Agony and guilt had shattered Cas’s usual neutral expression. Then he’d withdrawn and spun on his heels. Walked away. He’d spoken an apology to Dean with cold professionalism before leaving. Gave him a quick kiss on the cheek that Dean had been too buzzed and confused to do anything about besides brush his fingers against Cas’s hip before he slipped away.

God, Cas and Jack were that in love with each other and didn’t realize it?

Glancing at Jack the best he could in their current position, Dean felt something tug at his heart. Jack was loud and flashy. Always a grin and a smile and a flirt. But he was also hurt. Lonely. And just as fucked up on the inside as Dean was. That kiss before bed last night had been awesome. He’d still felt emotionally raw from everything—from the confession, from the jealousy at the way freaking Balthazar had been eyeing Jack, from seeing the flaws in what he thought was a perfect relationship—and that kiss had been just what he needed. Just the right way Jack could show that he mattered to him. He only hoped that Jack had gotten the message that he lov--

Whoa. No. No fucking way. He barely knew Jack. He couldn’t be feeling that yet. Love couldn’t possibly hang on his thoughts yet.

Dean tried to slide out of Jack’s grasp. When that didn’t work, he shoved Jack’s arm up and finagled his way out of the bed. Jack didn’t wake, so Dean counted that as a blessing. He slipped into a pair of sweatpants and headed out to the bathroom.

The bathroom was kind of a mess after the party. Someone had vomited on the edge of the toilet bowel and someone else had made a disaster of the soap dispenser. No one had even gotten that wild last night, not that Dean had seen, yet here things were a mess.

Fixing Cas and Jack? Something he had no control on. And love was not something he wanted to think about right now. He couldn’t love Jack. Not yet. No way. Too freaking early. 

Cleaning the bathroom, hell the whole damn place, that was something he could do and something he wanted to do. Dean finished washing up and splashed a bit of water on his face and then got to work. After cleaning up the bathroom, he tidied the living room. All the bottles and glasses were gathered and put in the appropriate place. He even wiped down the coffee table and other surfaces before taking out the trash and washing the glasses.

Most of the morning had passed by the time he’d gotten the apartment to a nearly perfect clean. Dean wanted to run the vacuum cleaner, but Jack and Amy were still sleeping. That’d be a heartless way to wake them up.

Dean’s stomach growled so he raided the fridge. Amy had all the makings for a good breakfast. Eggs, bacon, some pancake mix in one of the cabinet. Hoping she wouldn’t mind, Dean began cooking a breakfast for the three of them. Hell, he even started a pot of coffee.

A couple of doors opened and closed. Amy stumbled into the great room as Dean put the first of the pancake batter onto the griddle. She had her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head. Frowning and rubbing her eyes, she walked into the kitchen area. “Is that bacon?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. “I can pay you back for the--”

Amy’s eyes suddenly widened. “Holy crap!” She glanced around. “Did you clean? Is that coffee?”

Dean tensed up. “Uh, yeah.”

“You clean and cook.” Amy leaned into the hallway just as a door opened. “Jack! I’m stealing your boyfriend!”

“I saw him first,” Jack replied. Dean could hear the echoes of the toilet finishing up. He came into the kitchen with mussed up sleepy-head hair.

Dean smirked and paid attention to the food. “I don’t get a say?” he asked.

“Well I know I don’t stand a chance anyway,” Amy replied with a sigh as she grabbed a coffee mug.

Jack put a hand on either side of Dean’s waist and kissed behind his left ear. “He’s not gay,” he told Amy.

Amy held her coffee mug between both hands and leaned against the counter. “Intriguing,” she said. She batted her eyes at Dean. “Tell me, Mr. Winchester, what could possibly lure you away from those madmen to run away with me?”

Jack kissed Dean’s bare shoulder before moving to the coffee pot. Dean watched him move. Jack had stolen the other pair of his sweatpants and they hung low on his hips. Realizing his eyes had stayed too long, Dean dragged his gaze back towards the pancake. On the way, he wound up meeting Amy’s eyes.

“Damn,” she sighed.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“My allure has no strength on him,” Amy said. “Not with you in the room.”

Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Dean scoffed before Jack could say one of his impossible innuendos that this morning he might actually find cute. “And pour me a cup, would you?”

“No problem. Want anything in it?”

“Naw.”

Jack poured a cup and set on the counter next to Dean. He had his own cup in his other hand. Touching Dean’s side again, Jack teased, “So you like it strong?”

Dean ran his bottom lip through his teeth. “If I burn something, it’s officially your fault,” Dean chastised.

Jack laughed, a sound that ran like warm water down Dean’s back, and asked, “Need any help?”

“I’ve got it. Gimme a second.”

Before moving off to a seat again, Jack kissed Dean’s other shoulder. Then his presence was farther away, sitting with Amy and chatting about someone that had showed up last night. Something about being amazed about her girlish charm.

A roommate and a boyfriend. Was this how mornings were supposed to go?

Dean finished prepping the breakfast and slid the food onto plates before laying them out on the counter island. Amy dug in first. “Oh my God,” she managed with a full bite in her mouth. “You’re good.”

“It’s just simple stuff,” Dean replied.

“My stuff never turns out like this. I try, I do,” Amy told him. “What else can you cook?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. The basic stuff. Pasta. Grilled cheese. Breakfast. Burgers. I’ve helped out at the Roadhouse a few times, so I’m all right with anything greasy or bad for you.”

“Jack, you keep finding the best men,” Amy pouted. “Not fair.”

Jack kept eating, but he grinned a little more.

“Girl like you has to be able to find somebody,” Dean said.

“I’m sure I could if I tried,” Amy agreed. “But I’ve got my work right now. No time for man-hunting.” She stabbed a piece of egg.

“You’re not batting them off like flies?” Dean asked.

“That’s the problem. Right now all I’ve got are flies.” Amy rolled her eyes. “So not interested.”

Dean finished a bite. Wanting a change in conversation before he started openly gaping at Jack again, he said, “I saw you with your book everywhere the other day.”

“Bigger picture day,” Amy replied, motioning with her hands like she was expanding a camera’s focus. “I like being surrounded by the story and scanning my eyes through everything.”

“And that loud music helps?” Dean continued.

“Mmmhmm. Sorry if it bothered you.”

Dean shrugged. “You could barely hear it in my room.”

They finished up the meal. Dean grabbed the plates and headed to the sink, but Jack cut him off, stealing the plates. “You’ve already done everything else,” Jack said.

“Well, fine, we’ll do them together,” Dean told him.

Amy hopped down from the counter stool. “Does that mean I get a clean apartment, breakfast, and cleanup service on that all in one morning?”

“Looks like it,” Jack said.

“Don’t get used to it,” Dean told her. “I find a job, I ain’t going to have time for this kind of stuff.”

“I’ll count myself lucky then,” Amy replied. “I leave the kitchen in your hands, boys.” She gave a mock salute and headed off to her room or her office. Dean hadn’t caught the hang of which door was which. The sounds weren’t quite familiar enough yet.

Jack filled the sink with water. “So, why did you do all this?” he asked while they waited.

“Woke up with energy,” Dean said. He was so not admitting that Jack had been the source of the nervous energy buzz he’d felt. “And it’s a nice place. The mess got under my skin.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a neat freak,” Jack remarked.

Dean took the plates and dumped the couple of scraps of food into the trash bag. With a shrug, he put them back on the counter and admitted, “I dunno. Nice things should be, you know, nice.”

“How’s living with Amy?”

Dean took a dishtowel and leaned against the counter. Jack had dumped the few dishes into the soapy water. “We stay out of each other’s way most of the time. She made me change my freaking clothes before the party last night.”

“Oh?”

“I had a plaid shirt on too,” Dean took the first dish from Jack and dried it. “Told me that I shouldn’t distract from my attractiveness.”

“I’ll make sure to thank her. You were hot last night.”

“And I’m what? Dog food this morning?” Dean joked.

Jack ran his eyes over Dean, letting them linger a long time in certain spots, and then grinned when their eyes met. “I guess you’re all right this morning.”

“Only all right?” Dean continued. “I’m a damn Adonis and you know it.”

Laughing, Jack said, “Let’s get the dishes done.”

“Distracting you?” Dean asked.

“Oh yeah,” Jack replied. “These dishes are getting in my way of you.”

Now Dean laughed. “Well that’s just a crying shame. Better hurry up and finish then.”

“That’s the plan. For the dishes at least.” Jack grinned at him. “On you I plan on taking my time.”  
Dean’s pulse jumped into his throat from the look in Jack’s eyes. Jack was looking at him like he was someone special. Someone attractive. Someone desirable. That who he was not only mattered but was hot as hell. They barely knew each other, but Dean couldn’t help feeling the urge to show Jack he mattered, too.

Shit. He was falling for those deep blue eyes, genuine flashy grins, and the quiet hurt man that Jack had only given him a glimpse of. Son of a bitch, he was falling in love with a man--something he never thought he’d do. And for the first time in a long ass time, he felt like himself. He felt better than good. He was happy. And all because he and Jack were freaking washing dishes together and only talking about screwing.

Now if only he could muster up the same emotion when he thought of Cas, everything would be perfect.


	27. I Want You

Jack waited until Dean slid the last of the plates away into the cabinet. Then he stole the chance to come up behind the younger man. With a careful hand movement, he teased at Dean’s cotton-covered covered cock. That sent Dean’s hips backwards—right where Jack had anticipated. Dean wound up trapped between Jack’s hand and his hips. Jack eased his thumb down the length of Dean with a little more pressure.

Dean’s breath hitched and Jack grinned. “We’re in the kitchen,” Dean half-moaned.

Damn his voice got husky. Jack responded by rolling his hips against Dean’s and kissing his shoulder before murmuring, “So?” in his ear.

“So I’ve got a room--” Dean gasped when Jack fully groped him through the cloth, “—a roommate.”

“Uh huh.” Jack rested one hand against the counter and pressed lightly in with his hips. Dean squirmed against him, even as he propped himself up with his arms against the counter. A shudder ran through Jack. Teasing was the fun part and Dean reacted so well. He brushed his lips against Dean’s neck.

Dean bit his lip and held back a moan, his head hanging. “You know, I’ve got my own room,” he managed even as Jack groped him again.

“Yeah,” Jack said playfully. His hand roamed upwards and teased at the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants. After pulling it down ever so slightly, he slid his hand in past the elastic.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered. His muscles along his back tensed. Jack could feel that happen along his lower chest. Even as his body tensed, Dean gave another suppressed moan.

Jack drifted back just a bit. He let his hand slide around Dean’s hip.

Dean grabbed his hand when Jack had gotten to his ass. He glanced back, barely catching Jack’s eyes from their angle, and shook his head. After drawing in a breath—Dean had already started panting—he said, “I’ve got lube stashed in the bedroom.”

Jack drew his hand out of Dean’s pants. “Then we should get going.”

Dean twisted around, though Jack barely let him have the space to do it. “You gonna let me pass?” he asked.

“I’m thinking about it,” Jack replied.

With a smirk, Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Jack closer. He brushed their lips together quick and harsh. When he went in for another kiss, Jack seized the opportunity to press forward and slip his tongue between his lips. Somehow the confession last night had changed Dean. His kissing had more energy than before. He’d stopped holding back and let Jack take control. 

Jack pulled out of the kiss first. “Bedroom,” he murmured. “Now.”

Dean nodded, breathless and panting, and slid past Jack. Jack followed along behind and enjoyed the view. The sweatpants were loose and baggy on Dean everywhere but the waist. Right then, Jack decided that he liked Dean in jeans more—naked even more than that.

They made it into Dean’s room and Jack shut the door behind them. Dean was bending over, digging into the bag on the floor, with his ass high in the air. Grinning to himself, Jack came up from behind and rested a hand on either side.

“Five seconds,” Dean grumbled.

Jack reached down, slid his hand down Dean’s ass, and cupped him. The surprised noise Dean made was worth the glare he got a moment later. Laughing, Jack said, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Dean said as he stood up. He was smirking and he teased him by almost touching their lips together.

“Okay, I’m not,” Jack agreed. He pushed Dean up against the wall--they almost knocked into the desk--and licked at his lips until Dean let him back in again.

God, he was so different from Cas. Warm and welcoming and damn if that moan wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d heard in months.

The thought, once present, couldn’t be dismissed. A low tension coiled in Jack’s stomach. His body felt too hot—Dean’s grip on his shoulder and ass revving that part of him already willing to strip Dean naked and fuck him until they were senseless. Except that tension nagged at his mind.

He’d compared them. Worse than that, he’d compared them and Dean had come out on top. Wrong of him to do that. Unfair.

Fuck. This would be cheating. Screwing Dean when he was having troubles with Cas? When Dean barely knew him? When Cas was only-God-knew-where? No, no, things were even worse, Jack realized, as he pushed a leg between Dean’s. Part of him wanted to sleep with Dean to get back at Cas for ditching them.

No. Not for ditching them, but for leaving him behind. Leaving him in Dean’s arms when he should have been at Cas’s side.

But Jack had riled Dean up. He’d started this. If he pulled back now, if he said it felt wrong now, what would that tell Dean?

The coil in his stomach tightened, but Jack had made a promise. He gripped the sides of Dean’s sweatpants.

“Whoa,” Dean managed between kisses. Throaty and low, he commanded, “Stop.”

Jack hesitated. He panted and closed his eyes. Dean’s breath was playing strong and fast against his neck. Lower regions twitched and Jack bit his lip. He leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder. Part of his mind challenged him. Sex felt good. Sex with Dean—emotions be damned—would feel really really good. “What?” he demanded quietly. Unable to resist the urge, his fingers teased at the elastic.

“Look, this is feeling kinda off,” Dean whispered.

Jack frowned and glanced up into his green eyes.

Dean gulped down more air, raised his eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment, and began again, “Without Cas. I mean, neither of us are exactly, you know, on good terms with him. He doesn’t know and it feels like we’re—I don’t know—going behind his back. Doesn’t feel right.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue, then took in a deep breath. His brow pinched together even more. “You’re right,” he sighed.

With a loud sigh, Dean said, “Glad it’s not just me.”

“I want you,” Jack replied. “I do.”

Dean laughed and lightly touched Jack’s cock. Jack leaned his head back and Dean seized the chance to kiss his jaw. “Got that message loud and clear, buddy.”

“Oh, that’s not making it easier to stop.”

“Well, full contact sex doesn’t feel right without him.” Dean tossed the bottle of lube back into the black bag on the ground. He grinned at Jack. “I can think of something else that’ll work.”

One of Jack’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah?” Returning Dean’s expression, Jack asked, “What do you have in mind?”

With that mischievous smug grin on his perfect lips, Dean sank down to his knees. Jack didn’t bother asking any more questions.

\------

The penthouse door swung shut heavy and loud. Its closing sound echoed through the rooms and Castiel leaned against it. He couldn’t care about the mess of dishes he and Jack had left on the dining table not far from the door. Didn’t want to sink onto any part of the dark brown leather couches in the living room off to his right. Wouldn’t bother trekking all the way to the master bedroom tucked away in the back of the penthouse just yet.

Most of the blood had dried to his clothes. Stuck to his skin. The bruises ached only slightly more than the muscles he’d abused by fighting so hard for so long. He was exhausted. He should shower and sleep.

Castiel pushed away from the door and put too much weight on his ankle for the third time that morning. Afternoon, he corrected. First time in the afternoon. The pain from the ankle throbbed harder to remind him as he straightened up again. Now, though, his ankle wouldn’t hold much at all.

Bath instead of shower.

Castiel limped his way to the master bathroom. Thankfully it had a door to the outer hallway as well as the bedroom, so he didn’t have to crawl through the other huge room. The wall gave him the support and strength he needed to make it there. He managed to lean down, plug the tub, and get it started. As warm water covered the bottom of the tub, Castiel stripped. The blood-stiff trenchcoat, the sweat- and bloodstained suit jacket, bloodied pants. Blood blood blood.

He stared down at the trenchcoat. Raphael had insisted after their debriefing that he wear the wretched cloth home if he wanted to grieve for Gideon. Despite Castiel’s arguments against Uriel’s decisions, the leader had sided with Uriel. Demons had to be destroyed before they exacerbated the coming Apocalypse. The thinner their numbers, the greater chance the Angels had in successfully claiming the world. Gideon’s death was a loss, but a loss of a soldier. Tragic, but not unexpected in their war. 

Castiel clenched his eyes shut. His disobedience -his rebelliousness- would come at a cost. Raphael had not been happy, but he had only lectured today. After all, Castiel had broken no laws, no rules, no guidelines. Caring that a fellow brother had fallen was not a sin. But he wasn’t naive. The higher Angels would not be happy to hear about his protests. 

Castiel let out a sigh and opened his eyes again.

Water poured into the tub.

Finally, Castiel reached over and turned the water off. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of himself in the larger mirror over the sink. A dark angry bruise formed across his lower left ribs. A cut on his cheek accentuated the blossoming black eye—a black eye so strong it started on his right eye and blackened across the sinus cavity to darken the corner of his left eye. Compared to those two marks, the other scrapes, cuts, and bruises were nothing. Except for the swelling of his ankle.

Jack would be far from pleased when he saw him.

He shed the last bits of clothing before sinking into the warm water. 

Something would have to be done. He couldn’t hide the bruises and cuts as he had after previous skirmishes. Besides the general problems of a black eye and bruised rib--he had managed to hide both of them separately before but never at once--he would have a noticeable limp until his ankle healed. In fact, he might even need crutches. Jack would not ignore such obvious signs.

Besides, the effort could prove fruitless. If Dean saw him, he could manage to see past the make-up or another disguise techniques. Castiel might, for once, have to tell the truth.

Water sloshed over him as he moved his hand. The remnants of dried blood came off with enough soap and work. After a bit of time, he was clean again. Normally, he would remain in the still warm water and relax, but the water had more than the average amount of filth in it. Castiel leaned forward and unplugged the drain.

Before the water finished draining, before Castiel managed to lift himself completely out of the tub, he heard the penthouse door open. 

“Hey, Cas, you home?” Jack called out.

Castiel hadn’t bothered closing the bathroom door. Doubtful that he could reach it before Jack found him even if he didn’t confess his location. “In here.” He bit his lip as he stood. His ankle wouldn’t suffer much weight. Damn.

He grabbed a towel and tied it around his waist. Better if he wasn’t naked for the ensuing argument.

No point in hiding from Jack or trying to disguise the wounds now. Castiel sat on the lid of the toilet and waited for Jack to come to the door. With a bowed head and shoulders slumped, he heard Jack approach and the sharp intake of his breath. So he looked that bad. Castiel raised his head and turned towards Jack. 

Jack had let his features become a neutral mask. No sign of anger or compassion. Not yet. Castiel waited--what else could he do until Jack began reacting?


	28. You needed the lie!

Jack stood outside the penthouse door with the key in his hand. Cas could be home, he could still be gone. They’d have to talk about last night, especially since Jack had, well, compared his lovers. He’d compared. He never did that. Never brought anyone else into the equation. Hell, even when he’d qualified as ‘cheating’ or ‘having an affair’ in past relationships, he never once thought to judge one lover against another. Not when he was still in love, not when things were good between them.

But then again, things weren’t good with Cas. That relationship hadn’t been good in a long time. Not really. Some part of him knew he wanted to walk into that apartment, fill his bag, take Dean by the hand and run for it. Run and start over.

Except that wasn’t fair to Dean. Or Cas.

The fact that his largest worry was fairness to Dean didn’t escape Jack’s attention. He stepped back and leaned against the far wall of the hallway. With head tipped back, he closed his eyes and took a few long deep breaths.

He loved Cas. Life before him had been messed up. Fucked up was a light definition for the way his life had turned. Cas had grabbed him and the world hadn’t just gotten better. Life had been worth something again. Jack had become a functioning full-on human being with Cas again.

But that didn’t mean he owed him love and devotion when Cas wouldn’t trust him. He shouldn’t stay with someone if he felt he owed them. That was a terrible relationship standard.

A sigh escaped his lips.

No easy answer. Moments like this sucked. Massively. Moments where he couldn’t draw the line between black and white decisions. Leave Cas? He’d have to leave Dean too, or make Dean leave Cas and that wouldn’t do any good either. Considering Dean’s attitude this morning, that suggestion would sour anything they’d built. That would leave Cas alone with the Angels and that wasn’t good either. Despite Cas’s aloof nature, he needed people. He needed someone, well, normal. Someone who cared. Someone to love and to love him back. Hell, everyone did.

And Cas loved him. No one put up with the level of crap Jack had shoved Cas’s way without both human decency and profound devotion. They hadn’t even known each other, never met, and Cas had pulled him out of that place. Given him shelter and their mutual attraction had turned into this relationship. Shelter became home. While Jack knew he was strong enough to walk out, he didn’t want to. Not really.

But he couldn’t let what Cas did last night—intentionally shutting him out and leaving him in Dean’s bed—go. Couldn’t let Cas think that was appropriate. No, if Jack said nothing, Cas would try to do it again.

If this argument turned south, if Cas couldn’t be brought to see a shred of reason, he’d walk.

Another soft sigh slipped from his throat. The decision wasn’t great. Wouldn’t make him happy in the short run, but he was Jack Harkness. A man who used to have people follow him. Give their lives in defense of nations. Not everyone had liked him, but before he’d dropped off the radar, he’d been respected. Confident. Somewhere in the course of events that had changed. Not anymore.

He was Jack Harkness. Former leader of Torchwood, former operative, a man still capable of kicking ass, taking names, and tumbling into bed with just about anyone. A guy who let a lover treat him like six kinds of bullshit? No. If Cas loved him, truly, they’d work this out. If they didn’t, time to cut and run and start again.

Was Cas home? Was he still out? How much mental prep time did Jack have here? Minutes? Hours?

Deep breath in and out.

Okay. Okay, he could do this.

Jack pushed away from the wall and went into the apartment. He tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter—a gesture that made Cas roll his eyes, but Jack liked the momentary, if imagined, defiance. Their table still had all the dishes from last night. Jack would’ve done them when he got home, but that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Time to kill Schrodinger’s cat. “Hey, Cas, you home?” he called out even as he walked towards the master bedroom. He’d showered at Dean’s, but he could use fresh clothes.

“In here,” came Cas’s voice.

The tone set Jack’s mind racing. That wasn’t a cheerful note. Wasn’t confident. Coming from the bathroom from the echo, which wasn’t the best of signs either. Jack worried more about the sound of his voice than the place it came from. In two syllables, Cas had sounded exhausted.

Probably hadn’t slept yet. Maybe the fight, discussion, whatever this turned into, could wait.

No. No more waiting. No more hoping for it to get better.

Jack went to the bathroom. His mouth had been half open to start a remark, but he froze in the doorway.

Cas was sitting on the toilet. Towel wrapped around his waist and his head bowed, the look amplified the injuries. Swollen ankle, several minor cuts and abrasions, an already dark bruise on the left side of his ribs, and both of his eyes were dark from bruises, too. The bathroom mirrors gave Jack a good view of Cas’s injuries without having to step closer. Though if he wanted to, Jack would’ve needed to step over Cas’s bloody clothes.

The scene caught him off guard. Jack had taken in a deep breath. Air hit his lungs hard while his head spun with a tornado of thoughts. Twin angers raged and combined into a superstorm. One spin of rage emerged from the abandonment he’d felt last night, from Cas running off on his own and getting hurt when he should’ve clued Jack in. Its twin blossomed from desire to rain violence and even death upon the stranger who dared hurt his lover.

Well, if he’d had any doubts about loving Cas, the anger certainly clarified the emotion. He did love him. Maybe too much. And maybe that’s how they’d gotten here—Cas injured and secretive and him just rolling over, taking it, and asking for another go.

His features hardened into the neutral mask. The same he’d worn when he’d suspected Tosh’s betrayal. The same he’d let conquer when Ianto had dared to try and guilt trip the whole team about Lisa’s demise. A rage so fierce he didn’t dare let it burn openly.

A few long heartbeats passed. They echoed in Jack’s ears. The world seemed to slow.

Cas raised his head, brows slightly up, and his face was the opposite of Jack. Every bit of pain, of weariness, of exhaustion, played in those blue eyes and made them the shade of a rainy day. Emotion. So much from a man who never showed any. He opened his mouth to speak.

Jack held up his hand. Words from a broken man would wreck his resolve. His rage wouldn’t let him push his argument aside. Not when the evidence of what he had to say was already written on Cas’s flesh. But if Cas found that right line of syllables, Jack would break. He’d shove their problems aside again and pretend that they were happy. And that would make everything worse in the end.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d intended. “Don’t give me that look. Don’t look me in the eyes and give me an excuse. Another apology. I can’t take it.”

Immediately, Cas swept his gaze back to the floor mat under his feet.

Not broken though, Jack gauged. Cas had been beaten pretty bad, but he still had his spirit.

“How much of the blood is yours?” Jack demanded. He pointed at the clothes in case Cas missed the meaning of his words.

“Little,” Cas replied.

A small bit of tension in Jack’s body slipped away. No massive blood loss at least. His voice carried through the silent bathroom too easily. Too loud. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“I knew an injury was likely,” Cas corrected. He glanced at Jack through the bangs of his dark hair and waved at his face. “I couldn’t have predicted this degree.”

“Does it hurt?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The sheer vindictive happy tone surprised even Jack, but he didn’t take it back. Wouldn’t apologize for it. In fact, he crossed his arms as Cas raised his head in a quick jerky motion again. Cas’s features went from shocked to a frustrated frown.

“If you were expecting some other response, you shouldn’t have left me with Dean. I’m supposed to be your bodyguard. Your protection against things like this. You shouldn’t have walked into a fight without me,” Jack snapped. The rage boiled just under the surface of his words. He could feel it and he welcomed its warmth.

“You couldn’t come. It was Angel--”

“Business,” Jack finished. He let a deep angry frown tug his lips downwards. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Cas rubbed both of his temples and winced. Bit his lip a fraction. Then he shook his head. “I won’t do this again.”

“This?” Jack shouted. “You mean abandon me and walk into someone’s fist?”

“Have another argument about the nature of my work,” Cas said sternly while the pain slipped from his eyes. Almost otherworldly how the man could go from pain and slip into the neutral dominant mask.

He could get that same look in the bedroom. The dispassionate, clinical observance was kind of a turn on. Not now. Maybe never again. He was shutting Jack out. Shutting everything he felt down.

“What about the nature of my work?” Jack stepped into the bathroom. Anger burned in his voice. Turned it mean. Spiteful. “I’m supposed to be your bodyguard. I’m supposed to protect you.”

“You couldn’t this time,” Cas said. Detached. Removed. His voice sounded like a shell. “You’re not an Angel. You couldn’t be there.”

“What about the next time? Or the time after that?” Jack demanded.

“No.” Determination and dominance had worked their way back into Cas’s eyes. No was no in this case. Never going to alter or move.

Jack ground his teeth together. His hands tightened. Promises had been made. Chicago. Did Chicago matter at all to Cas? “What’s the point in paying me to be your bodyguard if I can’t actually do the job when it matters?”

Another long silence from Cas. Just when Jack thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Cas said, “The job has always been a farce. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. I am always with other Angels when I engage in combat. I am always protected. Without you.”

The exponential increase of his rage erupted so suddenly that Jack could only stand and glare at Cas. When his voice could work again, he snapped, “Fuck you.”

Then he was moving. Moving without thinking. The bedroom. His bag lurked in the bottom of the closet. He snatched it from the floor, ripped a half dozen shirts from their hangers and shoved them into the black void while he kept moving. Cas was shouting his name. Tears were burning at his eyes. The drawer he wrenched from the dresser flew out of its spot and flung down, striking him hard against the shins and dumping everything onto the floor.

“You needed the lie!” Cas shouted in that second of silence.

Confused, Jack glanced up from the drawer he’d let fall to the floor.

Cas stood in the doorway to the bathroom. The towel barely hung on him. He grimaced as he panted. All his weight had to be shifted to his good leg. His body was in bad shape.

But righteous fury blazed in his eyes. Passion. Even though they were in the middle of a fight, Jack fell in love with Cas all over again. He would’ve gaped in awe of the other man’s inner strength if he wasn’t so upset with him.

Since Jack didn’t interrupt, he kept talking. Softer in volume, but not any calmer, Cas continued, “When we met, you were broken. I remember seeing you and thinking that I had never seen a human being so lost. Alone. Not when I wasn’t looking in the mirror, at least. And so I brought you here. You were so out of it that night, do you even remember what happened? Where you even were?”

Jack closed his eyes and looked away. More than a year ago. Before that, he had gaps in his memory. Big ones. They had never talked about the night they met. Not once in a year.

Yet their meeting couldn’t have been simple. Probably not even pleasant. Jack couldn’t remember three whole days before waking up in Cas’s bed—clean and clothed and cuddled up against the stranger. His first impression of Cas had been of warmth and safety. He hadn’t been the first stranger Jack had woken up beside, but he’d been the first to hold Jack like that. To make him feel anything again. A tiny flicker in the darkness.

“No,” came the rough note strangled through his throat.

“You were on your hands and knees in a sex dungeon. High, though I suspect someone else had done that to you.” Cas leaned more against the doorway. “I only wanted to bring you back, clean you, and give you a night of rest. You wouldn’t go to bed alone. You trusted me implicitly. Without question or worry or demand. And while you slept you looked so—“ Cas searched for a word. “—innocent. Helpless. When you started healing, when you started looking for a job, I worried about your health. I feared that you would slide back into the hole where I found you. So I suggested the idea of you guarding me. You needed something to do, someone to be. And I needed you close.

“I failed you. I failed to notice you were better. I should have realized weeks ago when you questioned me, but I thought our arrangement—our relationship—was still working,” Cas explained. The fury had dimmed into a resolved calm. In the calm, his exhaustion had come back. He looked ancient and strong all at once.

A beautiful speech, but Jack had a flicker of doubt in his stomach. It rolled inside and made him nauseous. If Cas had lied, if Cas was playing him at all, then he was going to wish Hell would swallow him whole in order to avoid the pain he’d feel. Instead, in the here and now, he let out a shivering deep breath. Expelled the air from his lungs and drew in another.

For a former conman, he was setting up himself up for a potentially great fall.

“I need you to trust me,” he said.

“I do.” The words were a prayer from Cas’s lips. Weariness turned to supplication in his eyes. His face mirrored the plea in his voice. 

The exact things Jack hadn’t wanted to see in him at the beginning of this fight. Cas did care, and that made standing up to him harder. All Jack wanted to do was take him to bed and apologize, but that would change nothing. They’d be right back where they started.

“You don’t tell me anything,” Jack replied desperately. “You could’ve said something. Anything. You can’t keep leaving me in the dark about everything. You have to start sharing.”

“I share what I can,” Cas replied.

Jack shook his head. “No. I need to know about the Angels. I need to know what they’ve got you doing. I deserve to know why they’re putting your life in danger.”

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t.” Cas shifted. His shoulders squared again and his eyes grew distant. Withdrawing yet again.

“If you want to, then tell me,” Jack pleaded. He abandoned the mess of clothes and walked back towards Cas. “I can keep a secret. I made a profession out of it once upon a time.”

Cas frowned and rubbed at his temple. “You’re not an Angel.”

“You promised me,” Jack said. “You can’t tell me anything?”

“I serve the will of God and Heaven, not man.”

The response had come out of Cas quickly. Mechanically. Cas was squinting and holding his head.

Instinct kicked in and Jack frowned. Something wasn’t right with his boyfriend. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Cas replied. “Besides the obvious bruises.”

“And the headache? How long have you had that?”

“A minute.” Cas rubbed at his temple more.

“You get knocked in the head at all?” Jack asked. He finished approaching Cas and gently reached up to touch his hair.

Cas pulled back and almost teetered over. “No.” He stammered, “I just need to rest. Help me to the bed?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He waited for Cas to push away from the wall before he slid under his arm. Even with light pressure, Cas let out a groan of pain. Jack didn’t apologize. Not like he’d done any damage to Cas, and nothing he could do to avoid the slight re-injury.

They worked their way across the room and soon had Cas sliding in between the sheets of their huge bed. Jack pulled the comforter up. As Cas settled in, Jack caught sight of another injury. Two, in fact. He grasped Cas’s hand and sat on the bed beside him. Gently, he twisted Cas’s hand over to get a better look.

Each wrist had a circular bruise all the way around. Small light cuts marked skin nearby. Jack frowned.

“What?” Cas asked.

Jack brushed his fingers against Cas’s knuckles. Somehow they’d avoided the rough treatment of the rest of his body. “Did you see a doctor? Get your injuries looked at?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “I. Uh. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Jack asked.

“Events are a little fuzzy,” Cas replied. “A lot happened.”

“You’re sure you didn’t hit your head?” Jack reached up again.

This time Cas didn’t move. Jack lightly slid his fingertips through Cas’s hair, but he didn’t feel any bumps or cuts. A concussion could come without any obvious mark.

So Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket. He flicked past a few numbers.

“What are you doing?” Cas demanded.

“I’m calling Martha. Hopefully she’s still in New York.”

Cas struggled to sit up. “No. You can’t. She’s not an Angel.”

“She more angelic than your organization seems to be,” Jack returned. He put a hand on Cas’s chest to make him stay down on the bed. “She won’t ask any questions and she won’t say anything. I trust her.”

Cas stared into his eyes. The moment stretched and Jack readied a long verbal argument for when Cas rejected the idea. Except Cas laid back against the bed. Nodding, he relaxed more. “Then I trust her.”

Jack leaned forward and kissed Cas’s forehead. He let his fingers drift through his hair once more before standing up. “I’m going to grab some ice for that ankle, okay?”

“Yeah.”

Jack walked out of the room. He left the door to the bedroom wide open. On a whim, he glanced back over his shoulder. Cas laid on the bed, looking tired and worn, but relaxed. The heaps of clothes on the floor beside the dresser had caught Cas’s attention. Suddenly, he grimaced in pain and rubbed at his temple again.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Jack hit call on his phone. “Hey, Martha,” he said when he heard the phone pick up on the other end. “It’s Jack. I could use your help.”


	29. You haven't heard?

Minutes crawled past. Jack let out a long sigh and paced for a fifth time. The penthouse had more than enough space to accommodate his long stride. Dishes still cluttered the table, but Jack wasn’t the kind to tidy up when he was nervous. He’d rather rain hell down on whoever had beaten Cas. Except Cas wouldn’t talk, so Jack was clueless at whom to direct his rage.

Anger felt better than worry. At least with anger, he had the sense he could accomplish something. A vague something, but he didn’t have that knot of concern twisting his stomach.

Cas’s words were taking their turn with his mind too. Of course Jack had known he’d been in bad shape. Once upon a time, he ignored calls from Gwen, from Martha, from even Rose and Mickey. Lost his phone on purpose. Gone days without calling anyone. Bought far too many drinks and bottles just on the hope to drown out the pain. But he’d risen out of that with Cas. 

Cas had felt the need to invent the job? Had he been in that bad of shape? Maybe he had, but that didn’t excuse what Cas had done.

He sighed. What the hell would he do about it now? Obviously Cas needed help until he healed. Dean didn’t need him, but Jack didn’t want to leave either of them. Besides, Cas had had good intentions. In switched circumstances, Jack would’ve done the same. Worse, actually. He would’ve kept the lie going until Cas had walked out the door. So in truth, he wasn’t any better than his lover.

Who was he to judge?

A knock on the door interrupted his pacing. Jack hurried over and flung open the door. “Martha Jones,” he said with a bright smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her in for a tight hug.

“Jack,” she greeted in return with a soft laugh. She slipped past him into the penthouse.

Jack tried to shut the door, but Mickey slammed his hand out in time to stop him. “Mickey, didn’t know you were coming,” Jack said. He let the man into the penthouse too.

“Yeah, well, thought it was a good idea.” Mickey glanced around the main room.

“My patient?” Martha asked.

“He’s in the master bedroom,” Jack replied. As she made her way towards the back of the penthouse, Jack turned his attention back to Mickey. “Need something to drink?”

“Naw, man, I’m good.” Mickey was checking out the living room. Only he wasn’t appreciating the value of the couple of geometric shapes in the modern art paintings and he didn’t stare at the furniture. Instead, he was judging the room for potential problems. Watching and evaluating as if the apartment could attack at any point.

“Something up?” Jack asked. “You seem on edge.”

Mickey strode farther into the room with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “With what happened this morning and you calling my wife in to see to your injured Angel boyfriend, I’m bound to be a little catious.”

“What happened this morning?” Jack frowned.

Mickey glanced at him in surprise. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

Mickey let out a sigh. “’Bout thirty Demons bit it this morning. An Angel raid. You gonna tell me that Cas wasn’t part of that?”

Thirty Demons. Or close enough to call the number that high. Jack crossed his arms and raised his chin. Of course Cas didn’t need his protection if he had been part of such a bloodbath. “You know how many Angels were involved?”

“Accounts vary. Some claim ten. Some say only one.” Mickey shrugged. “You gonna give me a number?”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” Jack replied. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t betray his trust to a journalist.”

“Free-lance,” Mickey pointed out for about the thousandth time since he’d quit the job at the London paper. “I’m just looking for the truth here.”

“I don’t know anything,” Jack repeated.

Mickey held up his hands in surrender. “All right, chief.” The smile that played on Mickey’s lip faked sincerity.

Not a surprise, all things considered. Out of everyone Jack had disappointed in the last few years, Mickey had been the last to even consider any portion of forgiveness—and then probably more for Martha’s sake than anything Jack and Mickey had once shared.

Some wounds time couldn’t heal.

Mickey finally sat down on the couch. Jack paced a few steps more. If Martha needed help, she’d call for him. Most likely she wouldn’t. Minutes ticked by.

Finally she emerged from the master bedroom. She was frowning. Concern showed deep in her brown eyes. When she glanced up at Jack, that concern didn’t go away. “Jack, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but followed her into the master bathroom.

Martha shut the door to the hallway. After glancing in on Cas once again, she shut the second door too. “Castiel is fine. Mostly. I wish he’d consent to going to a medical facility, but I don’t believe he is in danger of internal bleeding. By this point, there would be more symptoms,” Martha said. She met Jack’s gaze. “I have a question to ask you. Medical necessity, not a personal pleasure.”

Jack crossed his arms again and tried to prepare for what she could say. “Shoot.”

“Do you and Castiel engage in any kind of bondage?” she asked.

Jack let out a long sigh. “You saw the marks too?”

“Perfect circles around the wrists. When I asked him about them, he said he couldn’t tell me.” She stared at him expectantly.

“Wasn’t me,” Jack replied. “I’ll spare you the details.” He grinned some. “Unless you want to hear details.”

Martha managed a smile too. “Another time perhaps.” She sobered again. “He reacted strangely to the marks. As if he didn’t know those abrasions existed.”

“We were talking earlier and he developed a headache.”

“He didn’t complain of one when I examined him. Though when I asked how he sustained his injuries, he rubbed his temple.” Martha shook her head. “I don’t like it, Jack. Something here isn’t right.”

“That would be why I called you.”

“Think it has something to do with his work?”

“How else could this happen to him?” Jack asked.

“So the raid this morning. Something happened there.”

“I don’t think Demons would’ve let him go.”

“You’re right.” Martha frowned. “Jack, that means his own people did this to him.”

“Yeah,” Jack admitted. He leaned back, resting against the marble countertop.

Angels had restrained Cas. They’d done something to him while he was injured and they hadn’t even tried to patch him up. Their game had changed. No way was this the first time Cas had been hurt under their watch, but he had never come home so beaten and bloody before.

Jack’s eyes had drifted down. Cas’s bloody clothes were still on the floor of the bathroom. The blood looked dried. Hours must’ve passed.

“Why would they do this?” Martha asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “But I’m going to find out.”


	30. You don't need to

The keys dropped from Castiel’s hand. He leaned against the doorframe and tried not to cry. Tried not to feel the overwhelming ache from his ankle, from his ribs, from every bruise across his body. All day long his injuries had plagued him while he sat in meetings or at the computer or in Naomi’s office. The grime of New York City clung to his clothes and his skin. Simply existing in the city had covered him in the crap that floated through the polluted air. Sweat had drenched him more than a few times during the day as well. Moving around on crutches instead of his ankle hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed.

Until he’d gotten to the door and dropped his damn keys to the floor. His patience and his endurance had finally met their match. He didn’t have a chance in hell of reaching down and retrieving the keys and a message from Jack had said that he wouldn’t be home for at least a half hour. Maybe longer.

So he was utterly and completely surprised when someone else picked up the keys. He frowned and followed the hand back to its owner. “Dean,” Castiel managed.

Dean had a smile on his lips until he had a good look at Castiel. He clutched the keys in one hand and reached both up to Castiel’s face. “Holy shit,” Dean whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel demanded. He could at least force his voice to give enough authority to make Dean blink a few times in wonder. With the chance to glance over the other man, Castiel decided that he hated Dean in khakis and a polo shirt. Jeans and leather jackets suited him much better.

“Jack invited me,” Dean said. “He said you’d been mugged, but holy shit, I think he and I need to redefine what ‘should be all right’ means.”

Castiel would’ve laughed if his ribs didn’t already feel like knives in his chest. “I don’t know. I think I’m fantastic at the moment,” he said sarcastically.

Dean smirked. “Uh huh. If that’s supposed to be a joke, it was lame.” He flipped through the keys on the ring. “Which one is it?”

Castiel picked out the right key for him and Dean opened the door to the penthouse. Dean flipped on the lights and then moved to help Castiel. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “I can make it on my own.” He got the crutches under his arms. The effort hurt everything in his body, but he propelled himself away from the wall and got into the penthouse on his own steam.

Dean tossed the keys onto the dining table and took a glance around the gigantic front room while Castiel worked his way towards the bathroom. “Where you headin’?” Dean asked.

“I’m gross,” Castiel complained. “I’m going to clean up. Shower.”

After shutting and locking the front door, Dean followed along behind him. Castiel glared at him at the doorway, but Dean didn’t back away from the bathroom entrance. “I have both been on your side of injury and had to take care of someone. So I’m not leaving. Besides, I have a feeling this is why Jack wanted me here so damn early.”

“I can manage,” Castiel began.

“Bullshit.”

The determination in Dean’s eyes wasn’t going away. He had a firmer look than Jack even managed. Of course, he wasn’t exhausted with Castiel’s antics yet. He didn’t know that this sort of thing could happen any day. Once the Apocalypse began, Castiel might have many more days like this. The Demon gang would fight, others would fight, and he would have to put them down to ensure the Angels’ order on Earth.

Would Dean stick around for those injuries?

“Fine,” Castiel sighed.

Dean moved forward and together they struggled through getting Castiel’s clothing removed. Actually, once Castiel stopped resisting, Dean was able to unclothe him quickly with barely any need for Castiel to move. His touch was gentle and barely there. Unlike Jack in so many ways.

“You had a doctor look at these?” Dean said as he knelt to look at Castiel’s chest better.

“Two,” Castiel replied. Dean’s breath played against his abs. His muscles there tightened which hurt when it should have been exciting. “I’ll live.”

“Hope so.” Dean finished removing the shoes, socks, pants and underwear last.

When Castiel had to put his weight onto his bad ankle for even a second, he let out a groan of pain. The second time he kept it to a sharp pained breath, but he could see Dean react both times. “You’ve been in fights?” he asked.

“A crap ton,” Dean replied. “Ribs broken or just bruised there?”

“Bruised.”

“Ankle’s what, sprained?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, Cas, why the hell didn’t you stay home from work today?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Shitty job,” Dean remarked. He took away the clothes and dumped them in the hallway.

Castiel leaned against the edge of the bathroom counter. He set the crutches against the wall and tried to make it to the shower on his own. In mere seconds his ankle gave out completely and only Dean managed to keep him from bashing his head against the marble floor or some other bathroom fixture.

The disgrace, the humiliation of being unable to take care of himself stung. His eyes burned with tears and he couldn’t look up. If Dean dared show him pity in his current state, he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it. Dean was only in this city because Castiel had been foolish enough to think that he could take care of anyone else. As things stood, Castiel couldn’t even get himself clean. An Angel shouldn’t need anyone else’s help, particularly the help of someone who didn’t belong to the organization.

Fuck, now his head was starting to hurt, too.

Was a shower too much to hope for? Cleanliness completely beyond his reach?

Without a word, Dean helped Castiel sit on the toilet seat. After checking Castiel over, he said softly, “You really need to feel clean, don’t you?”

“It’d help,” he replied.

“Okay then.” Dean stepped back and stripped off his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Castiel demanded. The gravel was stronger in his voice than it had been seconds before.

“Well, you’re not going to make it on your own, are you?” Dean kicked off his shoes next.

“Dean, I don’t need you to--”

“Hey,” Dean snapped. The tone of his voice made Castiel snap his eyes up to meet Dean’s green ones. His body language had shifted. While Castiel would have never called Dean weak, he hadn’t seen Dean take command like this. Strength he hadn’t suspected was in the way Dean held himself. Castiel would have even found it attractive if he didn’t feel so terrible. “If I can take your money, you can let me help you get a shower.”

Castiel wanted to argue. He opened his mouth, but hesitated. Despite what Dean had said, an Angel shouldn’t need anyone besides other Angels. He shouldn’t trust Dean in this moment of weakness. Only Heaven could be trusted.

Damn this headache.

Rubbing his temple, Castiel managed to look up at Dean once more. The other man was determined.

He just wanted to feel clean.

“Fine,” Castiel finally relented.

“I know it is,” Dean mumbled as he finished taking off his clothes. He tossed them out into the hall, too, before turning on the shower. “How hot?”

“I don’t know how to describe it.” Castiel shrugged. “Hot.” A heartbeat passed before Castiel asked, “This won’t be awkward for you?”

“It’d be more awkward to sit and watch you try to do this alone,” Dean replied. “Besides, we’ve seen each other naked before. You usually appreciate it.”

Castiel smiled, though Dean didn’t turn around to see him. He refrained from commenting.

Dean let the shower run for another minute before he moved back to Castiel. Gently, he helped him up from the toilet seat. They worked their way into the shower. Through sheer luck, Dean had happened upon a temperature that suited him nicely. The moment water washed over them, Castiel felt better.

“You have a huge bathroom,” Dean remarked.

Castiel hadn’t even thought about the fact that they fit inside the shower with room to spare until Dean had said something. Jack probably wouldn’t have fit in the space with them, but a standard sized shower had trouble fitting two full grown men—especially ones as big as Dean or Jack besides himself—together without requiring a considerable amount of dexterity to stay inside.

When Castiel reached for his shampoo, Dean saw the motion and beat him to it. “You’re not doing a thing, ‘cept holding on and not falling,” Dean instructed. He put shampoo in his hand.

Their movements had caused Castiel to wind up closer to Dean. In between the other man’s arms, Castiel finally allowed himself to smile. “Yes, sir,” he teased.

Dean smirked as he slipped his hands into Castiel’s hair. “You really like the water, huh?”

“It’s relaxing,” he murmured in response. Dean’s hands moved through his hair and Castiel closed his eyes. The touching was reassuring. Dean moved with rhythm and purpose. Besides all that, he naturally smelled good. A sleepy grin crossed his lips.

“Jesus, Cas, that was just your hair,” Dean murmured into his ear. “Lean your head back, I don’t want you to get soap in your eyes.”

So Castiel did as he was bid. Dean’s fingers ran through his hair again while he made certain the shampoo washed away. After that, Dean found the sponge and soap. He washed him with firm but caring motions. All the while, the hot water poured over Castiel’s back.

Too soon, Dean finished and was reaching to turn off the shower. Castiel sighed in disappointment, but he didn’t insist on staying longer. Even with Dean’s help, his ankle began to hurt too much again.

Out of the shower turned out almost as nice as inside it. Dean grabbed towels and without a word wiped the water off of them. Castiel had to grab onto the counter a couple of times, but in no time he had a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist.

When Castiel reached for the crutches, Dean stopped him. “What?” Castiel asked.

“You’re already sore under there. I can help you to the bed.”

“You assume that’s where I’m heading,” Castiel returned.

“It is ‘cause I say it is. Wanna wait for Jack to get home and be pissed at us both that you aren’t in bed?” Dean said.

“And you know that would be his reaction? He told you to have me in bed?”

“I can make an educated guess. C’mon.”

Castiel let Dean move them into the best position and then they worked their way towards the bedroom. “I’ll need the crutches.”

“I know. I’ll bring them. Some water too. And dinner, whenever that’s ready.” Dean pulled back the sheets of the bed before helping Castiel sit back down. “Do you, uh, wear any pajamas or anything?”

“I won’t bother,” Castiel murmured. After the long day and amazing shower, the bed felt like a cloud and he already drifted downwards.

“At least let me get the damn towel.”

Castiel lifted his hips just enough for Dean to pull it out from underneath of him. His eyes had already shut and Dean was pulling the blankets up around him.

“Get some rest,” Dean murmured.

If Castiel had had the strength, he would have thanked Dean. Instead, he pushed the few remaining aches out of his mind and let himself enjoy the bits of comfort he had found. He felt Dean kiss his forehead and run fingers through his hair one last time.

God, he was so glad they had brought Dean to New York.


	31. Don't play me either

Dean closed the hallway closet door. After putting Cas to bed, he’d slipped on a pair of Jack’s sweatpants and tidied up their clothes. He’d gone to hang the coat up last. When he’d taken it off of Cas, he’d assumed that it had been the same one he’d worn the last few times they’d met, but upon closer inspection the coat had a slightly different style and color. A replacement coat after taking that kind of beating. The last one must’ve been covered in Cas’s blood. Ruined with his blood.

Jack had said everything was fine. Dean’s grip on the closet doorknob tightened a smidge. How could he keep fooling himself that everything could be just fine? Faith, hope, and pixie dust and he was flying, right?

Of course he’d known they had their problems. Of course Jack and Cas couldn’t be a typical couple. They’d found him on the internet and they’d taken him in out of nowhere. For no reason. Yeah, sure, they cared about him. In a weird, twisted way, they cared.

Dean let out a long sigh. What the hell was he supposed to do about all of this?

The door to the penthouse swung open before Dean could do more than wonder. Jack strode in with grocery bags under his arms and he managed to kick the door shut in one fairly quiet move. “Hey,” Jack said with a smile even though he headed to his left for the kitchen.

Dean followed him and hissed, “What the hell?”

Jack stopped to look at him and raised an eyebrow. “Got a problem?”

“You lied.”

Jack set the bags of groceries down and suppressed a sigh. Dean could see the way his body had tensed up. So Jack didn’t know how to deal with Cas either. At least Dean wasn’t in this boat alone. “It’s what he told me to say,” Jack replied. “Mugging.”

“The only way that’s a mugging is if they were trying to kill him,” Dean said. “Someone did try to kill him, didn’t they?”

“I can’t talk about it, Dean,” Jack said. He gave Dean a pleading look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Aren’t you pissed about it? That had to have happened the night you stayed with me,” Dean insisted. He couldn’t believe Jack wasn’t reacting more. The other night he had been so torn up, Dean hadn’t been entirely certain he hadn’t been ready to cry himself to sleep.

“It did, but there’s nothing I can do about it,” Jack replied.

Dean scowled at him. “You should’ve at least told me the truth about how banged up he is.”

“He’s fine enough.”

“I found him at the door. He’d dropped his keys and he looked like he was about to have a breakdown. You even notice that I not in actual clothes here? I helped him into the shower. He needed help to even try to stand for more than a second. He was freaking exhausted, mentally and physically. I don’t call that ‘fine enough,’ do you?”

“Okay, I might’ve overestimated how well he’s doing,” Jack admitted.

“He’s not going into work tomorrow,” Dean said.

“And you decided that for him?”

“Walk into that bedroom and look at him and then tell me it’s a good idea.”

Jack pursed his lips together. “We can’t make that call.”

“Bullshit. I’ll sit on him if I have to.”

“There’s nothing more I’d want for Cas, but we don’t make those choices,” Jack began.

Dean interrupted by grabbing Jack by the waist and tugging him around to finally face him. Jack seemed to think he was hiding the pain well-enough, but Dean had seen that guard falter the other night. “Something else going on?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. Blue eyes shined with barely contained tears. He kissed Dean quickly. A brush of lips against lips and nothing more. No passion, no longing. A lying quirk meant to pacify him. When Dean parted his lips even a bit, Jack added quickly, “I said, don’t worry about it.”

And then Jack was trying to slide away from him. A brush of hips and a lying smile were all Jack would give him.

Both lovers lying and hiding feelings from him inside of two weeks was a bad sign.

So Dean grabbed Jack again, and when Jack offered that slight bit of resistance, he gently pushed him up against the counter. “Sayin’ that doesn’t make the worry go away,” he said. “What the hell’s going on?”

Jack let out a long sigh. “I don’t work for Cas anymore.”

“’Cause of the other night?” Dean guessed.

“Something like that,” Jack said. When Dean opened his mouth to demand an answer, Jack added, “Look, that was a long fight coming and I’m not ready to go into the details yet. I just can’t work for Cas.”

“Okay,” Dean said. He rubbed his knuckles along Jack’s side a little. “You okay?”

Jack lightly put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and pushed him back a step. “I’m fine.”

Dean let him go and watched him walk away.

God, this was not what he’d been hoping for tonight. Sure, he figured that something had been up with Cas and Jack after the other night. Cas had practically ditched Jack with him and the morning after, they’d almost had sex. Dean had wanted to, but without Cas, while they were so distant from him emotionally, he’d have sworn the act would’ve been cheating.

Dean ran his fingers through his still damp hair. Relationships were more complicated. Hell, he hadn’t even tried to have one in years and he jumped straight into the deep end of crazy. Two secretive boyfriends. What the hell was he thinking?

The bedroom door opened and shut. Dean decided to put away the groceries while he waited. The rest of the room was already tidy and he couldn’t find anything else to clean.

After a few more minutes, Jack came back to the kitchen. Dean was busy putting something into the fridge. Never missing the chance to come up behind, Jack slipped his arms around Dean’s waist and kissed behind his left ear. “He looks worse today,” Jack murmured.

“So you support the sitting-on-the-chest plan?” Dean asked.

“Or we could just hand him a Vicodin in the morning,” Jack replied.

“Where we going to get that?”

“Actually, he’s already got a prescription. He wouldn’t listen to me this morning.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder at Jack. “And you think we’ll have better luck tomorrow morning?”

“I think, if he wakes up next to those concerned green eyes of yours asking him to take his meds, he’ll be less likely to resist,” Jack said against his skin.

“You want me to play him.”

“I want you to help remind him to take care of his body,” Jack said with another kiss. “I’m concerned. You’re concerned. He’s in pain and beat up and not listening to me.”

Jack’s soft kisses against his neck felt too good. Dean leaned his head to the side and let him carry on. After all, he’d been hoping for some fun tonight. Some groany sexy naked fun. But Cas was all beat up and he was too worried to really relax. Even as Jack’s hands traveled down and brought him closer, Dean bit his lip. He tensed up. “Jack,” he murmured. He grabbed Jack’s wrists. “Don’t play me either. You want me to stay the night, I can stay. No need in pointless wind up.”

Jack gave one final kiss before moving away.

Instantly, Dean regretted the statement. Jack’s presence against him had been nice. Comforting. He turned towards the older man.

But Jack was obviously in a different headspace already. He was going through the bags and putting away more stuff.

“Some wind-up wouldn’t be bad,” Dean said slowly. “Just, you know, I came here like engines half-revved already and I don’t wanna end up full throttle slinking off to the bathroom to take care of the situation. Or worse, having to think of some trick out of it. Basically anything where I’m like a teenager getting all hornball.”

Jack chuckled and turned back to him with that mischievous grin. “Sounds like you might already be,” he teased. His eyes ticked downward and then back up.

Oh great, apparently his half-hard cock was a little noticeable in these pants. Dean tried to shift his weight to hide the would-be erection, but Jack’s knowing grin was only serving to make him harder.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Dean said suddenly. He took off for the bedroom before Jack could tease him anymore.

No fair that Jack had practically suggested they might have sex after all with those eyes. Or worse, that Jack had only been toying with him for the sake of a bit of fun. In his position, Dean might’ve done the same to him.

Cas was lying on the bed. He managed to look up at Dean as he came into the room and smiled at him. “Hey there,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” Dean replied. He came to the edge of the bed and sat beside Cas. “Feeling better?”

“Much. Jack gave me a pill. Supposed to help me sleep. I don’t think it’s working yet,” Cas said. “Shouldn’t be, at least.”

“Give it another few minutes.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. He reached out and touched Dean’s hand, so Dean gave over and held it. “For helping me.”

“It’s what good boyfriends do, right?” Dean said.

Cas let out a genuine smile. Something Dean hadn’t really seen before, certainly not something Cas had ever shown to him. Maybe the drug was already working for him. Drugs always made Sam loopy as hell inside of minutes even with his ginormo body.

“Jack said he’d make dinner,” Cas stated.

“Did he? Great.”

Cas snorted. “Hopefully. His track record in the kitchen is not the most fantastic.”

“Maybe I should go help him.”

Before Dean could stand, Cas wrapped his hand around Dean’s more tightly. “He can manage. If he can’t, he’ll call for take-out,” Cas told him. “Lie down with me. Stay awhile.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

Dean carefully maneuvered to Cas’s side and eased his arm around the other man. For his part, Cas nuzzled up against him. His lips brushed Dean’s neck and his breath played against his skin. Yeah, Dean didn’t feel that beginning erection die down any.

Cas chuckled quietly. “I was wondering if that would make an appearance.”

“Oh?”

“Laying here, I realized you hadn’t had any kind of reaction to seeing me naked earlier.”

“I was a little caught up in taking care of you,” Dean replied. “You had me worried.” Although, with Cas’s breath on his neck, Dean could only think about the fact that Cas didn’t have any clothes on underneath the sheets. While Dean had decided to stay above them, his imagination certainly could remember. Then, of course, he remembered all the bruises he’d seen blossomed across Cas’s skin. “You still have me concerned. Jack said he’s not working for you.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“You’re beat to hell and back, Cas. I think that’s the definition of needing a bodyguard.”

“Jack and I talked about this. We came to an agreement.”

“Jack said you two had a fight.”

Cas went still. Holding his breath for a moment kind of still. The softness that had come to his voice had died away to the harsher commanding tone. “What did he say?”

Dean couldn’t help frowning even if Cas couldn’t see his lips. “Only that you’d had a fight. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Cas said. He relaxed again, though not as much as before.

“He seemed real shook up over it still.”

Cas sighed loudly. “If he doesn’t want to talk, I won’t talk.”

“Mm, great. I’m sure that’ll go great for me in the long run,” Dean grumbled.

Cas pulled back and stared into Dean’s eyes. The scrutiny made Dean want to squirm away. Something about the look in Cas’s eyes told him that the other man was trying to read his mind. Not that such a thing was possible. “I’m sure that Jack will tell you when he’s ready.”

“And you? When am I going to stop guessing about you every two seconds?” Dean asked.

“When we’re both ready,” Cas replied. “I promise.”

Dean stared back into Cas’s blue eyes and tried to judge for himself the truth of Cas’s words. A spark of sincerity lit the intensity in Cas’s eyes. Dean brushed his fingers through Cas’s hair and the other man’s eyelids flitted for a moment. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

Cas smiled and snuggled in again. His hand brushed against Dean in such a way that Dean couldn’t hide that growing arousal anymore. Dean could feel Cas’s grin against his skin. “You’re easy to excite tonight.”

“Well, you’re naked and you’re hot and Jack was doing that thing against my neck again.”

“You know, if you two want to have sex, I’m alright with that,” Cas said.

Dean was in such a shock over the blunt remark that he couldn’t say anything. Eventually, he stammered, “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Make sure Jack sets up the camera though, so I can watch later.”

The words had been so simply stated that Dean wasn’t sure they were real. Yet Cas was still there in his arms. He wasn’t dreaming any of this. Cas would be fine so long as they taped everything. Dean wasn’t sure what was more exciting—full permission to have sex with Jack or the idea that Cas wanted to watch them later?

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean murmured before kissing the top of Cas’s head.


	32. Tease

Jack leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. Dean was washing the dishes in the sink, even though they clearly had a dishwasher underneath the counter less than two feet away. But so far, Dean seemed like the kind of guy who needed something to do, especially when he was nervous, and Jack couldn’t blame Dean for feeling tense.

A tension of his own was running through his shoulders. Dean had taken the dishes and left the room, which left Jack alone with the boyfriend he wasn’t sure he was still fighting with. Cas had gone to sleep pretty easily, but in his drug-induced state he had muttered incomprehensibly for a few minutes. Jack wasn’t even sure that he was using English. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Jack called out.

Dean jumped, muscles down his bare back tensing and releasing in an instant. Jack’s sweatpants hung low on Dean’s waist and only the swell of his ass kept them from falling off. “You cooked,” he said.

“There’s a dishwasher.”

“I like doin’ ‘em. Besides, looked like you needed a moment alone with Cas and I needed something to do.”

“You read that, huh?”

Dean shrugged. “Mighta been noticeable.”

Jack sauntered towards him and slipped his hands around Dean’s waist. Much like the other morning, Dean didn’t stop cleaning. He ignored Jack’s presence at first. Jack kissed behind Dean’s left ear and rocked closer into his body.

Dean sighed and leaned back against him. “How bad is it?”

“How bad is what?” Jack continued kissing along Dean’s neck. Dean smelled of leather and long lazy afternoons spent in bed. At least, that’s what the scent of Dean made Jack think about. Maybe sometime they could find a beach, spend all day out in the sun.

“I’m not an idiot. You couldn’t look at him without hurt in your eyes. He might’ve been too drugged up to notice. I wasn’t.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jack promised. “Give us time.” Jack rolled his hips up into Dean. Another chance to ignore the reality that most of his life was a fucking disaster. Not what he had with Dean. That was simple and easy.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed. “You gonna do that every time I’m cleaning?”

“Maybe.”

“How ‘bout every time I try asking you something personal? You gonna get all handsy whenever that happens?”

Jack sighed and let go. Unfortunately, denying reality took two in this case. He went to move away, but Dean turned and grabbed him with wet, soapy hands. Dean’s voice came out lower, gruffer, as he said, “I trusted you with something big, you know. I’ve never told anyone about my dad. But I’m like some huge adorable stuffed animal for the two of you. You play with me and cuddle me and that’s it. In what way is that fair?”

“You know, the other night, you let this go.”

“The other night Cas wasn’t beat to hell and you weren’t outright lyin’ to me,” Dean snapped.

Jack couldn’t meet his gaze. Here Dean was demanding the same thing out of him he’d been trying to get out of Cas. How big of a hypocrite could he be? How many times could he make the same mistakes? After all, hadn’t Ianto pushed for the same thing? Honesty. Simple pure honesty.

At some point, Jack had convinced himself that lies of omission, of deflection, weren’t lies at all. Cas had shown how much that could hurt.

A piece of silverware glinted in the light of the kitchen.

Dean had sent that silver ring of his father’s sailing out into the New York night and he hadn’t broken over it. If anything, Dean seemed stronger than the other night.

One deep breath. Jack took one in and then pulled Dean in closer to him. Dean hesitated, understandably, but Jack needed the touch. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Cas and I fought about why we’re together. About him keeping secrets from me.”

“Oh yeah, that definitely falls into the ‘don’t worry about it’ category.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“How come?”

“Because I’ve got problems in my past too and I don’t like dwelling there. I’d rather be in the here and now.”

“Ignoring your hang-ups won’t make ‘em go away,” Dean said.

“You’re one to talk,” Jack teased. A couple of words, a light smile, and maybe, maybe he could divert Dean off this path. Make him leave it alone. He didn’t want to go down this path tonight after all.

“Yeah, I am. Who knows how much happier I could’ve been if I’d freaking ignored what my dad had to say?” He held on tight to Jack’s hands as if he could provide some kind of lifeline.

Hell, Jack had hardly said anything to Cas. Why did he have the urge to spit anything out at Dean?

Because. Because right now he had that other urge. A bottle had been salvation once upon a time. Drink and the pain went away. Drink and the pain wasn’t real any more. Didn’t have meaning. Wasn’t there. Except he’d get sober and the pain would only be worse. Thus the cycle would begin again. Or degrade. The booze would stop working and he’d reach for something else.

Damn. He thought he was better, but would those urges ever go away? How could he get free of them?

“Jack,” Dean whispered. His voice ran along Jack with such a comfort that Jack almost recoiled out of hand. “Jack, come on, man. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack took in a deep breath and ignored the burning in his eyes. “I loved someone. I loved him and was too scared to say it. Then he died on a job because I was too stupid to see what we were heading into. I didn’t take it well. I fell into this dark place. Honestly, by now, I’d probably be dead if Cas hadn’t found me.” He chuckled and a tear fell. “He still thinks that the drugs weren’t my idea. He has that kind of hope and faith about me.”

Jack rubbed his hand lightly over the small of Dean’s back. The other man hadn’t pulled away yet. Instead of rejecting him, Dean laced his arms over Jack’s shoulders and patiently waited for more. So Jack continued, “Cas never needed me to play bodyguard. He was scared that if he wasn’t watching over me I’d fall right back into the hell he found me in. So he made it up. He never needed me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Dean, you’re sweet but—”

“Don’t even try to tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. You didn’t see the way he looked at you the other night. The way he looks at you in general. You’re twisted up inside so you just can’t,” Dean said. “Hell, the man doesn’t know how to ask for help or even freaking talk any better than I do. You should’ve seen the way he tried to insist on doing everything himself just a little while ago.”

“Are you suggesting we’re too macho for our own good?”

“Yeah. Some.”

Jack laughed quietly and flashed a sad smile. “Why do you bother putting up with us at all?”

“Cuz,” Dean said and the note in his voice was too sharp. He stopped looking Jack in the eyes and his shoulders tensed. Little body language clues that he was hiding something. Finally, he cleared his throat and went for the deflection. “The sex is pretty good.”

Oh so easy if Jack wanted to ruin this moment. All he had to do was point out that now Dean was trying to lie to him, but Jack already felt more emotionally raw than he had in years. Old wounds had opened and all he wanted was to heal them. Besides, Jack had that sneaky thought himself—how soon was too soon to fall for somebody? Jack could fall in love at the sight of a dance, at the sound of a laugh, at someone’s scent mixed with coffee, at the gentle touch of a hand, but not everyone thought it should happen that easy.

Dean had troubles holding hands in public, so Jack wasn’t counting on hearing the words ‘I think I love you’ any time soon from him.

But some things never really needed saying for Jack. He wasn’t known for saying the words himself.

He slid his hands down Dean’s ass with enough gentle pressure that he gasped. With a smirk, Jack said, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

Dean flushed in a whole body sense. He gripped onto Jack’s shoulders and set his forehead against Jack’s. “You’re both hot. Like really freaking hot. That helps.”

“Uh huh.” Jack swooped down and kissed along Dean’s neck.

“And-and free place to stay. Whole new life just for showin’ up.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Jack ran his hands over Dean’s ass again and pulled him tighter against him. After a second, he turned them so he could pin Dean against the sink and then he kissed him with slow, almost lazy movements.

That laziness was turning fast. The heat between them went from a slow warm pulse to something hotter and quicker. Just before Jack reached to grope Dean’s cock, the younger man broke off the kiss and sputtered, “Ah. Fuck. Jack. Wait. I promised Cas that if we got it on, we’d record it for him.”

The words were like dumping a bucket of ice water straight down Jack’s pants. He had wanted a few kisses, some groping, and seeing where this went, but all the way tonight? Suddenly he felt old, tired. Still, if that’s what Dean wanted, then he didn’t have a problem with it. Not really.

So he told himself.

“I’ll get the camera,” Jack said.

“Never mind,” Dean said so fast Jack almost didn’t hear him. He locked his arms around Jack as if he was afraid the other man might still move away.

Jack frowned.

“Today’s kinda been one giant roller coaster for me. Job hunting sucked and needing to help Cas was unexpected. Now that I think about it, you know what I really want?”

“What?”

“Cuddling and shitty horror movies.”

Jack laughed. The answer was so unexpected and Dean’s smile so bright, the chuckle bubbled out of him. “You’re in luck.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got about a dozen hidden in the back of our DVD library. Been ages since I’ve seen any of them.”

“Awesome. You guys got like, I don’t know, tea or something?”

“Yeah, a few types,” Jack said. “You don’t seem like much of a tea drinker.”

Dean flashed a grin at him. “See, you don’t really know me yet. I could love the shit out of tea.”

“Do you?”

“Not really, but it’s what I want tonight.”

Jack kissed his cheek. “I’ll make some while you finish the dishes.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Jack drifted away from Dean in order to get the kettle. When he turned back towards the sink, he paused.

Dean had gotten back into the rhythm of cleaning and a soft warm smile was on his lips. The light played along the shadows of his body as he moved. Scar tissue here and there broke up otherwise perfect skin, but that detracted nothing from him. Somehow, in that moment, Dean Winchester was miraculously the most beautiful man Jack had ever laid eyes on.

“What?” Dean said.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

“Just wondering how I’m going to slip in for the water.”

Dean grinned mischievously. “I thought you were a master at slipping in.”

With a bright smile of his own, Jack stood behind Dean and reached around him to use the sink. As the kettle filled up, he kissed behind Dean’s left ear.

“Tease,” Dean joked.

“Flirt,” Jack replied without missing a beat. He kissed Dean’s cheek before taking the full kettle over to the stove.

As he waited for the water to heat up, Jack wondered how long it’d take him to tell Dean those three words. He’d been too late to say them to Ianto, too early for Cas to believe him. Just this once, he wanted to get everything right.


	33. They're mine

Castiel sat in Raphael’s office and tried not to feel the ache going all the way down to his bones. For three days, Jack had kept him on the stronger painkillers and at home, in bed, resting. That Friday morning he had insisted on going back to work. 

Not surprisingly, his boss demanded to see him as soon as he had come through the office door. He had made his way into Raphael’s office and taken a seat in one of the restricting black chairs. All the rest and relaxation of the last few days flew from his mind. His body tensed and Castiel sat completely still while he waited.

After twenty minutes, Raphael breezed into the room. “You’ve been absent, brother.”

“I was injured. I needed time to recover.”

“You came to work on Monday.”

“I realized that was a mistake.”

“Still, you should have called. Instead your lover did. So was it your decision to stay home or your lovers’?” Raphael demanded.

“I made that decision,” Castiel lied. 

Waking up next to Dean and Jack the other morning, Castiel had lacked motivation to leave the bed even before his lovers begged him to stay home. They argued and Castiel insisted that he go to the office, but the other two were so adamant in their pleas for his health that he found himself giving in to their requests. And once he had done so one morning, the next two made it easier. 

He did feel better and he had stopped dropping things. His control was better over the crutches. When he saw his reflection in a mirror, he didn’t seem so pale or sweaty anymore.

“An Angel must rely on other Angels,” Raphael said. “You have prescriptions from another doctor, you let your lover dictate your recovery. Castiel, you are misbehaving.”

How did Raphael know about the drugs? Jack had given him the pills, but Castiel had glanced at the bottle. Had his name been on the prescriptions and he didn’t realize?

“I needed assistance,” Castiel said.

Raphael sat down at his desk. “Which you should have gotten from us, not outsiders.”

Castiel chose silence. Any argument where the other person was inherently right wasn’t worth fighting and after the weekend, Castiel couldn’t bear to fight with anyone else. Not right now. Before this conversation, he wanted to tackle the day’s work, go through the numbers in the accounts, have whatever business meetings were required, and get home to Jack. Hopefully Dean could come by again. The general buzz of Jack’s anger—a reasonable anger they had only stilled, not vanquished—settled into an almost happy thrum when Dean was in the room.

He should have been focusing on Raphael and his thoughts were only about his lovers. He dropped his gaze away from Raphael and towards the floor.

“We only allow you these playthings because they provide a reasonable story for you. Friends, associates, a thin connection to people so that others don’t question or prod at what you are, Castiel. We at the network are chosen, special, but we have to hide until Apocalypse comes. Then we will lead society into a glorious new era.”

Do not question the Archangels, a voice inside Castiel’s mind reminded him. Do not question the order. Do not forget you are an Angel.

“They are just playthings, aren’t they, Castiel?”

“Of course,” he said too quickly. Guilt seared through him, both from lying to Raphael and from saying such a hideous thing out-loud. Yet, which was the more heinous crime?

Lying to an Angel was the obvious answer, so why did bile threaten the back of his throat at the idea that he had belittled his relationship with them?

“I won’t recommend their removal, yet, but you cannot allow them to interfere with your work here.”

“Being beaten almost to death interfered with my work. If anything, Jack and Dean have actually improved my health faster and therefore increased my ability to perform.”

“Agreed, in this case,” Raphael said. “Though if you need such care again, you should go to one of our facilities.”

“Your doctors released me,” Castiel replied. “Without crutches, without pain medication.”

“You insisted you didn’t need them. Don’t you remember?”

Castiel furrowed his brow. The other morning had been blurred by exhaustion after the fighting and the argument with Raphael about Uriel’s attitude and Gideon’s death. At some point he would have been checked over, and then he had gone home. Bathed. Argued some more.

He must have rebuked the drugs out of hand.

“I was wrong,” Castiel said slowly.

“So it appears.” Raphael steepled his fingers together and watched Castiel. “You need to care for yourself better, brother, and rely upon us.”

“I understand.”

“That was all I wanted from you. See to your work. With God’s grace.”

“Amen,” Castiel said. Then he rose from his seat and used his crutches to walk out.

Of course peace was not to be found in his work that morning. After only a half hour, Uriel stopped by Castiel’s office with a broad grin. “Back at your desk, finally.”

Castiel kept his gaze on his computer.

“How is the new pet settling in?” Uriel asked as he took a seat across from Castiel without invitation. “Is he house broken yet?”

Silence, again. Castiel read through one of the finance reports that Naomi had emailed him.

“Answering isn’t only polite, but expected when an equal asks a question,” Uriel said. 

“I have work to accomplish.”

Still, Uriel stayed in the chair. “He seems like an eager one.”

“I didn’t realize the affairs of my bedroom were so interesting to you.”

“You have such pretty pets.”

A note in Uriel’s voice was off. His whole demeanor struck weird bells that created a disharmony in Castiel’s thoughts. That sort of tone meant something—interest. Uriel had used that tone long ago in a club when appraising a submissive’s outfit. His general attitude towards the D/s scene made Castiel’s skin crawl. In fact, Castiel strove to become a better Dom because of Uriel’s overbearing need for control.

Control.

These needles and jests to get under his skin were attempts to control him. If Castiel slipped up, if he became too angry, then Uriel would argue to Raphael that the two lovers had too much influence on Castiel. Once Jack and Dean were forced from Castiel’s life, Uriel could swoop in and try to make them part of his.

“At the airport, you weren’t pestering me on the sake of the Angels,” Castiel said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Nosing around my bedroom like this. You’re asking for selfish purposes, not for the good of the Angels.”

Uriel’s smile shifted slightly. The edge of predator curled his lip further up. “You seemed so cautious when you were introduced to the scene and now you think you can control two submissives?”

“You lust after my lovers.”

“Not both of them. You forget, Jack was on his knees long before you met him and I could have had him any time I wanted. You may have put the pieces back together, but inside he’s still a wretched broken slut. Dean, on the other hand, is new. Fresh. Malleable.”

Castiel clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared as he glared at Uriel. The disrespectful, disgusting tone in Uriel’s voice pulled a growl up through Castiel’s throat. “They’re mine.”

“Ooo, you have a little fire in you yet. It’s cute.”

If he could have stood on his own, he would have. Instead, Castiel had to settle for glaring from his seat. 

“You haven’t answered my question,” Uriel said. “Is he house broken? Come now, no secrets between Angels.”

“Does Raphael know you visited a branch of the Pit in Chicago?” Castiel said.

Uriel’s eyes widened for a brief flash before he hid the surprise under that smile again. “You have no proof.”

“I made a contact in Chicago. I gained quite a lot of information about you.” 

His contact was a higher ranking Demon, but that was something Uriel didn’t need to know. All Castiel had wanted was a little insurance against his disappearance, something to protect Jack from being stripped away, but the conversation hadn’t provided much more than a list of Uriel’s habits. Somehow the information had slipped his mind until now. His brother’s attitude reminded him that Angels couldn’t always be tr—

Angels were to be trusted above everyone else.

Castiel’s head ached, but he held off from rubbing his temple.

“How about an answer for an answer, brother,” Uriel said. “No, Raphael doesn’t know. That was my bit of free time. And Dean?”

“I haven’t had the time to train him, yet.”

“That’s all I wanted to know.” Uriel stood up.

“He’s mine,” Castiel said.

“For the time being. Once the initial charm wears off, who knows?” Uriel went to the doorway. “I mean, if you don’t have time for the boy, he can’t possibly desire to stick around.”

Without giving Castiel a chance for rebuttal, Uriel slipped out of the office and shut the door behind him.

A plan slowly came to Castiel. He pulled out his cell phone and with a growing smile, waited for the other man to pick up.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Dean, would you like to earn your collar this weekend?”


	34. I was beginning to give up hope

What was his problem with doors?

Jack hesitated before wrenching the restaurant door open. The text from Cas had rattled him more than he should show. When was the last time they’d had lunch together? The day they met Dean? Except Cas didn’t have anything to eat at that meal, so that one didn’t count either. Dean had taken care of Cas earlier this week because Jack had needed to go to work, which meant he hadn’t been around for the daytime meals. 

So today’s text had thrown him for a loop. Cas kept play and work separated and if anything, he’d proven that Jack fell strictly into the ‘play’ category these days. A meeting during the workday wasn’t a good sign. 

To top off his discomfort, Jack had to wear a suit to his job on Fridays. Balthazar’s clients often came into the auction house before the weekend and they expected to speak with the head of security. Professionalism was key to keeping the clients happy.

On the other hand, this was the kind of restaurant that was classy at lunch, so the suit helped him fit in with all the other business workers. He needed to stop winding himself up before the meal. 

The hostess grinned at him from the podium. “Can I help you, sir?” 

Jack glanced into the dining room. Cas sat at a table near the large window. “My date’s already here.”

She waved him in.

Cas was gazing out the window with a soft, almost serene smile on his face. Jack had come from the other direction, so he hadn’t seen him yet. Would the smile stay when Cas finally turned? That happiness was almost unsettling. What if Cas had come to some big decision about their future—in that they needed to move on? Cas might set up a lunch and even be happy if he thought that was the right thing to do.

Jack was letting his mental train wreck of insecurities fascinate him beyond a healthy measure. Still, he had to force the smile onto his face. Sadly the fake smile was second nature to him again. For so long, he hadn’t felt the need to feign happiness because he’d been genuine. 

When Jack reached for the chair, Cas spotted him. That serene smile brightened a fraction more. “I was beginning to give up hope,” he said.

Only practice kept Jack’s smile in place. After all, hadn’t he basically given up hope on them? The relationship was all a measure of how long they could keep it going. And Jack had other offers. Balthazar was willing to make their relationship more than professional.

Jack took the seat opposite Cas. 

“You’re troubled,” Cas said suddenly.

Damn his perception. Jack stalled by taking a sip of the cool water before answering. “We’ve never done this.”

That smile faded and Cas frowned. “I know. And I know that it’s my fault.”

At least he was owning up. “So. Why lunch?”

“Because by dinner I hope to have this plan set in motion.”

Now Jack didn’t bother to hide his distress.

The waiter came by the table at that precise moment. Jack ordered a steak without bothering to look at the menu and almost put a glass of wine with it. The urge was there, the word on his lips, but this was not the time or mood for alcohol. If things were about to slide downhill, he needed to stay sober. He owed that to himself. Once the waiter was gone, Jack asked, “What plan?”

“It’s come to my attention that we haven’t trained Dean.”

Of all the shit in the universe to matter. “You’re worried about Dean’s submissive kink?” Jack said. “What the hell?”

“We found him searching for that in his life,” Cas replied. “We promised to supply it.”

“Don’t you think we have bigger problems?”

Cas paused. A blank wall came over his features and, not for the first time, Jack wished he had telepathy. “Our relationship won’t mend in a single week.”

Jack leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t have to say the words, his whole expression emoted, ‘You think?’

“Dean is new to the city and I know of at least one person who would like to sweep him away from us,” Cas said. “Uriel is counting on our disintegrating relationship to leave Dean ripe for plucking.”

“This is you trying to get your house in order,” Jack said. 

“A house I love and want to protect,” Cas replied with steel in his voice. “I want you and I want Dean and I want the three of us to be happy. I want to make this work. What do you want?”

The direct question had never crossed Jack’s mind. He’d hedged around it so many times and faced with it, he realized that was what he’d been wondering since the night he’d stayed at Dean’s. Was Cas and all his secrets worth the hassle? What would make him happy?

Did he have any clue what happy was? What real happiness was? The feeling had escaped him for so many years. If he was honest, he hadn’t been happy since Ianto’s death. If he hadn’t been messed up, would he have landed in Cas’s bed?

In his mental bickering, he reminded himself that he had been happy a few times, most of them recently, most of them with Dean. That night in St. Louis, when Dean made him equally important by telling him to get on the bed, when Cas had pressed every button the right way. The carnal memory came so quick blood flooded lower regions. 

He scraped his thumb across his lip, not able to look at Cas’s eyes, and let out a long sigh. “I want us to be something real.”

Cas took his hand. “Me too.”

Were they capable? Had too much happened? Jack absent-mindedly stroked Cas’s hand for a long moment. When he glanced up into Cas’s eyes, he was willing to try. At least for a while longer. “What’s this plan?”

“We should spend the weekend training him.”

“You’re still in bad shape.”

“That’s why you’ll be my proxy.” Cas smirked. “You’ve dommed before.”

“Not in years.”

“I’ll be there.”

“So your plan is to dom Dean through me?” Jack asked.

“Essentially. You’d be playing both dom and sub.”

Okay, that was an idea. Jack raised a single brow at the thought. 

A bigger, happy smile crossed Cas’s lips. “You like it.”

“It’s interesting.”

“Interesting enough to try?”

Cas was actually asking instead of running on ahead like this was the plan. A good change of pace. Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“We should meet after work and pick out Dean’s collar together.” A lustful wickedness came over Cas. “Maybe a new one for you to reflect the new position.”

Jack found himself returning Cas’s devious grin. “Only if we pick up a leash.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” 

They were still holding hands. Jack slipped their fingers together in a loose interlock. Here was a Cas willing to try. While Jack had an easy time blaming him for everything that had gone wrong between them, he wanted to try to be better too. Coming out of this recovery was like coming out of a long illness—one he barely knew he’d had. Thinking about the weekend brought excitement. The emotion didn’t sit on top like an expectation; he genuinely felt the corners of his mouth tug towards a smile. How long had his emotions been imitations and shadows? Was he clear of that, or was a relapse on the way? 

Too many thoughts on the wrong track. Jack redirected onto the rails of anticipation and leaned in towards Cas. “It’s got to be leather.”

“Naturally.”

“And what else is part of this plan?”

Cas began to give him the details and Jack smiled more and more.

\---   
Between job applications on a library computer that afternoon, Dean had snuck a few glances at BDSM websites. He didn’t exactly want anyone seeing what he was looking up, but at this point in the job search he was too bored to take it seriously. Seemed that no one wanted a GED with a give-em-hell attitude except Cas and Jack. Even as messed up as their relationship was, Dean could see that at least both men wanted him.

The internet hadn’t helped him much. ‘Earning a collar’ was specific to a dom. Each one would have different requirements. Some of the articles he’d seen had caused some nausea, but turned out he’d stumbled onto a fanfiction site during his research. Yeah, figuring out what the hell ‘fanfiction’ was had taken a few more minutes and he wasn’t going to admit his ignorance to anyone. Or that he’d spent a full half hour on a Dr. Sexy fic. 

Tensions had been high this week. Between Amy’s editor demanding new chapters, Cas’s recovery, and Jack’s general moodiness, Dean was more than ready for the weekend. 

Yeah, so ready. That’s why he was hesitating knocking on the door. Screw it. He rapped his knuckles on the wood. 

Jack swung it open immediately. He had a bright eager smile for once, especially when he saw the bag on Dean’s shoulder. “You packed?”

“A couple things,” Dean said. Like the lacy underwear that he’d spent a small chunk of change on that had gotten him a ‘someone’s getting lucky’ grin from the sales clerk. 

Jack took it off his shoulder as he walked into the apartment. 

Cas sat at the kitchen table. Dean was sort of stalled a few feet from the door because Cas was over there, but Jack was disappearing with his bag to presumably the master bedroom. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Cas motioned at the chair across from him. 

That was an easy enough instruction. As Dean took the seat, Cas said, “We need to go over rules for the weekend.”

“Sure.”

“Jack and I want you to act like a pet tonight and tomorrow.”

Dean frowned. “Like crawl around on all fours? Kinda not my thing.”

“If we wanted a dog, we’d have one,” Cas replied. He must be feeling better if the bluntness was back in swing.

“I wouldn’t mind some crawling,” Jack said as he walked into the room. The look on his face made Dean suddenly too warm. 

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Dean said. “If you don’t want that, then what?”

“We’d like you to be as naked as you feel comfortable with, do as we say, and lounge around when we’re not engaging in more serious play,” Cas said. “Also, a restriction on your vocabulary. You’re only allowed ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ or ‘Sir,’ unless a question demands a longer answer.”

“What if I need something?” Dean asked.

“Try to communicate in other ways first.”

Dean thought over the rules. “And I get my safe word too, right? Like I know it’s an obvious gimme, but just checking that you haven’t gone off the deep end.”

Cas and Jack were suddenly way too cheerful. Dean scowled, and Jack explained, “You passed the first test.”

“Two,” Cas corrected.

“Uh, remembering my safe word?” Dean said. “What was the other?”

“Asserting what you felt was a necessary limitation to the game,” Cas replied. “Do you have any others?”

“No. But if something’s really bugging me, I can talk about that too, right? I don’t mean slight discomfort, I mean if something’s not sitting right. Man, I’m fucking up explaining that.”

“Communication is key,” Cas agreed. “If you have a serious concern, we want you to voice it.”

“Then I think we’re good,” Dean said.

“I have two rules to add,” Jack said. “Stay off the furniture unless invited. We bought the black beanbag and blanket on it for you, but everything else is off limits until you’re told otherwise. And no electronics unless you get permission.”

“What if I get a phone call?” Dean asked.

“All right, phone’s all yours. Keep it in plain sight on the coffee table.”

“So you can go through it?” Dean said. “That’s not—”

“So we know when to respect your privacy,” Jack replied.

“Oh, right.” 

After a moment’s pause, Cas said, “Anything else?”

Jack and Dean both shook their heads.

“Good. We’ll evaluate in the morning if we want to keep going and Sunday is devoted entirely to Dean’s aftercare.”

“Even if all I want to do on Sunday is leave?” Dean asked.

“It’s about whatever you want.”

Dean nodded. He’d wait and see how he felt in the future before making any decisions.

“So we’re all set?” Jack said.

“It appears that way,” Cas said.

“I’ll go run Dean a bath.”

Okay, he was really doing this. Dean took in a deep breath and let it back out. If he wasn’t having fun, he could stop the game at any point. Safe, sane, and consensual—that was the BDSM mantra he saw all over the websites. Cas and Jack were going to that effort. So far, the game set up kept inside those guidelines and Dean trusted that it would stay that way. 

He trusted them. He repeated that in his head a few times and honestly, it felt good. 

He was willing to bet this weekend was going to feel even better.


	35. I want to see you relax

A few long awkward minutes passed at the dining room table. Dean sat across from Cas and was unsure whether he was supposed to be in the game already or if Cas was going to give him some signal. He could ask, but Dean felt an unspoken pressure that the game’s expectations had begun when Jack had gone to run the bath. 

Honestly, he was surprised Cas had even suggested this. The guy was still in rough shape after whatever had happened last weekend. His bruised eye had shifted towards healing colors, though that left it looking nastier. Dean had had enough bruises in the past to know what that one felt like. Cas and Jack must have decided on the game for distraction’s sake.

Cas rose from the table. He was moving better, but he still avoided putting weight on his bad ankle. Dean caught a brief expression of pain. Made sense, considering how many colors the bruises had been only the other day. Dean almost voiced the concern about Cas’s health, only both lovers had been on board with the game they’d set out. They hadn’t been in that kind of agreement for a long while, so he’d have to trust that they knew what they were doing.

All this silence was making Dean edgy. If this was par for the course this weekend, he’d go stir-crazy by bedtime.

Cas grunted while getting into the lower cabinet. A pan fell from his hand and clattered on the floor.

Dean would take silence over those noises. He was out of his seat and halfway to Cas’s side when Jack shouted, “Dean!”

Cas gathered up the pan and pushed himself up. Dean was hovering nearby, unsure if Cas was all right enough to leave alone. “Go to him,” Cas said. “I’m fine.”

Sure, and Dean had a million dollars to his name. 

“Go,” Cas repeated, and this time with the bite of anger that belonged to his dom voice. 

Dean huffed and walked off to the bathroom with a scowl heavily set in place.

Jack finished running the bath the same moment Dean walked through the door. “Should be right. If not, you’ve got some room to adjust it. Go ahead and strip.”

Dean shucked off his shirt with no extra ceremony. He was undoing his belt when Jack suddenly took hold of his hands and stopped him. Had he been stripping wrong? Great, messing up in mere seconds of getting started.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked softly. “Did you change your mind?”

Crap. Jack was reading him wrong. Dean licked his lip, took in a deep breath to jump onto a huge rant about how Cas wasn’t fit for this, and at the last second, hesitated. Jack lived with the guy. No way he didn’t know that Cas was still in pretty bad shape. They wanted to play and they’d added some domestics into their kink. 

While his research hadn’t turned up anything truly specific, Dean would never earn a collar without trusting them. What was the point in all this if he wasn’t going to put some effort into it? No reason to break the rules on this. 

“No, sir,” Dean said.

“Well, something’s upsetting you,” Jack replied.

All right, this was more complicated. He had to keep to the rules, but how did one non-verbally communicate that kind of thought? A pantomime was going to get ridiculous fast and a three-word vocabulary didn’t get far. And three words didn’t make much sense since he had two masters. He needed to be able to differentiate between them. 

Easy, Cas was Master, Jack was Sir and if they got pissed at him for ingenuity and one extra word, Dean was in the wrong relationship.

Jack’s frown creased and Dean couldn’t blame him. Thinking all that through had delayed his response, but now that he’d settled a couple of problems, he’d be ready to roll the whole weekend. He nodded towards the kitchen and said, “Master.”

“You’re worried about Cas?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack kissed his cheek. “We’ve got everything under control.”

Dean frowned.

“You took care of him earlier this week. It’s not your job to worry about him this weekend.” Jack ran his hands lightly up Dean’s arms and all the way up until he cupped Dean’s jaw. “I want to see you relax.”

Like he could do that when Cas was hurt? And worrying wasn’t a damn job, it was part of the nature about caring about someone else. Dean pursed his lips, slightly aware that his body language was rigid. 

“Okay,” Jack said. “Think of it this way, being the relaxed one is actually a huge responsibility and it’s going to help. You’ll be breaking up the stress feedback. So I need you to chill out, understood?”

That was a lot more than Dean considered. While Jack had asked him to help out with Cas earlier in the week, that’d been about taking care of him physically. This responsibility was about their freaking mental wellness. People had asked him to help out with the physical stuff all the time. No one had wanted help with emotional stuff since, ever. Sam was always trying to be the emotional support, Dad had locked everything away, Ellen and Jo had each other’s backs, and Bobby preferred shutting the world out. Sure, Dean had always tried to give the people in his life what they needed, but no one ever asked him. 

Trust was getting placed both ways here. Less scary for him. They were willing to make him important in their lives, too.

Dean placed as much warmth into his voice as possible when he answered, “Yes, sir.”

Jack kissed him—a brief touch of their lips. “Good boy. Now, finish getting naked, go soak in the tub. I’ll be back in a few minutes to wash you. I’m going to see how dinner’s coming along.”

Dean went back to undoing his belt while Jack left. He abandoned his clothes in the middle of the bathroom floor. The whole last week he’d been either taking care of Cas or cleaning up after Amy in between job searches and if he was supposed to relax, then he wanted to shed off the crap he usually worried over. Neither Cas nor Jack had said anything about him being neat this weekend. He got a cheap thrill out of the prospect of minor slobishness.

The water was a bit chilled. Dean messed with the faucets until he got it hot again. Warmth eased into his muscles and he unwound. Fuck, he’d gotten tense all over. His stress levels had been high lately, but considering how good this felt, he’d been worked up more than he realized.

The tub was big enough for two men to fit and so Dean had plenty of space. That was a first since he’d been a kid. He slid down until the water was up to his chin just for kicks, but he had to crane his neck too much to get comfortable. After a moment, he pushed back up and stretched his arms up along the sides of the tub. Confident he was less likely to drown if he nodded off on accident, Dean closed his eyes.

Nagging worries from the week pestered the forming calm state of his mind. Blocking them only let them spin back around and become worse. What if he had to sponge off of Cas forever? What if Cas had some serious health problems? How long was Amy really going to let him stay? Did anyone out here even like him or—

He let out a long sigh and worked at putting all those things on hold. He’d worry about them on Sunday. Until then, he was Cas and Jack’s pet who didn’t have a care in the world. Vacation-mode. Wait, submissive-mode. Better label, because he could have submissive-mode any time they all agreed.

By the time Jack came back, Dean had a drowsy smile. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.

“You awake?” Jack asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dean rumbled.

“How do you like your steak?”

Steak? Awesome. This weekend kept getting better. “Medium.”

“One of those perfect in betweens?”

Dean nodded.

Jack stepped out to the hall and called out, “I win.”

Dean laughed and went to ask what happened. A draw of breath was all he got before he remembered. Instead, he opened his eyes and tried to put the whole question into a facial expression.

Laughing, Jack said, “Don’t try so hard.” He came over to the tub’s side. “I could tell you were curious before you did whatever that is.”

Mildly annoyed at the statement, Dean splashed water at Jack.

That got him another laugh. Jack leaned over and plucked a shampoo from a shelf. “Getting into the role?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean slipped under the water long enough to wet his hair and rose back up.

After squirting a bit of shampoo onto his hand, Jack rubbed his fingers through Dean’s hair in slow, steady movements. “Cas and I bet on how you liked your steaks. He thought you’d want it rarer.”

That explained that comment, not that Dean cared anymore. Jack washing his hair was more a scalp massage and, since he was unwinding, felt really good.

“There. Rinse it out.”

Dismayed that Jack’s hands had already left his hair, Dean frowned in disappointment. An order was still an order. He ducked under the water again and rinsed it out.

Jack poured a vanilla scented body soap onto a bath sponge.

Vanilla? Dean scowled at the bottle and sponge.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s too macho?” he teased. “We picked it out for you.”

They’d gone to an effort to do something for Dean. Cas placed importance on cleanliness and some reason that stupid soap made them think of him. Smelling like vanilla didn’t break safe or sane in his book. ‘Sides, he’d need to get clean again by the end of the weekend. Scent wasn’t permanent. Dean shrugged to show he didn’t actually care enough to fight it.

Picking up on the consent, Jack leaned in and began washing Dean. “Had a boyfriend who was always trying to outdo me in the macho category. You think Cas has been playing tough this week? Ianto insisted I pop his shoulder back into place on one mission. Afterward, he claimed he’d never screamed. Shouted, sure, but not a scream.”

Dean tried to hide a mild interest. Besides the details the other night—though details was a generous word for the vague confessions that had spilled from Jack—Jack hadn’t shared much with him. An ensuing tiny fear pressed upwards in his mind. Dean was trusting way too much to complete strangers. His dad would’ve been pissed at—

Screw his dad. Dean needed to live his life. Be happy. Sammy was out seeking that in California. And Jo and Ellen and Bobby wanted him to find his own happy. For the moment, that was here.

“Another time he actually insisted on measuring to see who was bigger. And calculating. See, bigger to him meant—” Jack’s voice caught and a brief flash of pain creased his brow. He drew in a deep breath, but the light had left his voice. “Mass.”

For the next moment, Jack washed Dean in silence. Jack had said he lost someone important. That the person had died on a mission and he’d fallen into such a bad place afterwards he was sure he would have died without Cas’s intervention. Questions burned, but Dean kept his mouth shut. He would have even without the game’s rules. Jack’s pain was obvious. Dean was willing to bet that the someone’s name was Ianto.

“Anyway, my point was, he used to smell like cherry, so macho’s just a thing inside your head.”

Dean took Jack’s free hand and intertwined their fingers.

Jack froze in place. He struggled to put a neutral mask in place, apparently only now realizing that Dean was seeing the exposed emotion. Yet, just when Dean thought the other man was going to block him out, Jack let out a long sigh. “He’s been gone a long time.”

So had Dad, but that still hurt. Dean tightened his hold on Jack.

Jack squeezed back and kissed Dean’s temple. “Come on, let’s get you dried off before Cas has a chance to burn dinner.”

Dean reluctantly let Jack’s hand slide away. Seemed like when that touch ended, Jack slid back behind his mental armor. Back to faking he was all right. Earlier this week he’d been fighting with Cas and no way was a blow-up causing that kind of guarded pain over this fast. Dean was left wondering how mentally beat up Jack was. He’d thought he was in rough shape, but Jack seemed to be the king of ‘no, seriously, I’m okay.’ 

Damn it. Dean couldn’t help himself. He was worried about him.

Jack opened the drain on the tub.

The water sank lower and lower, exposing more of Dean as it went. Here he was, naked in front of Jack in way too many ways. Jack knew about the panic attacks, about his dad, about the unemployment—way more about him than Dean knew about Jack. This glimpse was the second time Jack had let Dean in on anything. 

Jack brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Hey.”

Dean turned his face up to him.

Jack kissed him in a quick, gentle gesture. “We’ll talk soon.”

Yeah. How many times had Dean heard that in his life?

Jack kissed him again, this time with more passion. It caught Dean off-guard. When Jack drew back, both of them were a little breathless. “We will,” Jack promised. “If it matters at all, you’re—” He sighed like he was letting go of a heavy weight. “—you’re the first person I want to share with.”

What about Cas? Hadn’t they been together for a long while? Okay, Cas kept secrets better than the Pentagon, so maybe Jack hadn’t felt inspired to share with a guy that locked down. 

Another kiss to the temple. “I was serious,” Jack said. “We’re terrible cooks. At any point, the fire alarm might go off without our intervention.”

Dean snorted. 

Jack offered his hand. He hadn’t shoved all the emotions down. A calm, reserved peace had settled over him. Something about the way he was looking at Dean stirred up some emotions Dean had clamped down on earlier this week. 

They were playing a freaking game—all this with the bath and the not talking and whatever else happened tonight—and Dean should be keeping his thoughts on that. Shouldn’t be possible to fall for anybody this fast, let alone some guy he barely knew.

That thought was a conditioned thing. Instilled by Dad, reaffirmed by Sam. Who the fuck were they to say how fast Dean was allowed to fall in love? Macho was just a state of mind, right? He wasn’t any less of a man falling for someone as handsome as Jack. So he was falling in love with the guy, so what? Nothing wrong with that.

‘Specially since, for the first time, Dean was getting the impression that Jack was falling for him too.

Dean took his hand and let Jack help him up—not that he needed any help, but this kept Jack close. He wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders and kissed him. The words weren’t in his vocabulary for this weekend, which had nothing to do with the rules. Instead, he tried to tell Jack with his mouth this other way.

Jack wrapped a towel around Dean’s waist and pulled it tight to keep him close for the kiss. When he finally pulled away, his front was soaked from the water off of Dean. They panted together, foreheads resting against each other. Dean tipped in for another kiss.

The fire alarm bleeted in the kitchen. Dean jumped.

Jack chuckled. “I wasn’t joking about that.” He kissed Dean’s cheek. “Your bag’s on my dresser in the bedroom. I’m hoping you’ll stay naked, but it’s optional.”

Jack strode out of the bathroom. Something about his movement, his confidence, made him addicting to watch. 

Fuck it. Dean was falling for Jack. And there was nothing wrong with that.


	36. We've never talked about it.

Cooking seemed like such an easy thing. The right ingredients, the correct amount of heat, and viola, a meal for three. However, this execution was more complex than original appearances. Despite knowing the formula, Castiel missed something and smoke rolled off his steak.

In seconds, even as he got the burning steak onto a plate, the smoke alarm blared. Castiel grabbed a towel and waved it around the alarm. His attempt to disperse the smoke worked, but also reminded him of every bruise along his torso. He grimaced as he dropped his arm down.

“You okay?” Jack asked as he sidled into the kitchen. He had that pleasant tone to his voice. His body language exuded contentment in a way that Castiel hadn’t seen in almost a month.

“I burnt my steak.” Castiel turned back towards the stove. At least he hadn’t started the others yet. With the heat the way it was, they wouldn’t take long to cook. He put them on the stove.

Jack came up behind him and twined his arms around his waist. He kissed his right shoulder. “I can share mine.”

“Mine should still be edible.”

Jack was like an excited cat that had to share its good news. Once, twice, he pressed his lips against Castiel’s neck. Castiel leaned his head to the side and Jack rolled his hips up against Castiel. They settled in against each other with Jack idly brushing his fingers along the waistline of Castiel’s pants.

“How was bath time?” Castiel asked.

“Good,” Jack said too quickly. Then he drew in a deep breath and nudged Castiel’s cheek with his. “Got thinking about stuff.”

A potentially dangerous stepping ground. Jack had been thinking a lot lately. In some ways, Castiel was happy about that. His self-respect had returned along with his sense of self-worth. Only when he demanded too much did they have issues. What sort of thinking had his lover had? “Like?”

“The past,” Jack whispered. “Nothing to worry about.” He kissed Castiel’s cheek.

Before Castiel could question that, Jack said, “I think he added a word to the game this weekend. He called you master.”

Castiel nodded. “He needed to differentiate between us. I should have thought of that.”

“You had plenty to think about.”

Somehow, not comforting enough. Castiel prided himself on providing everything his lovers needed and he’d slipped up.

Jack swayed with Castiel in his arms and Castiel bit back a grunt of pain. Too many bruises and not enough healing. The motion moved into a slow, easy pace and a hardness pressed against his ass. Oh, this weekend was exciting Jack this much already. Jack gave one more kiss and then moved away.

Only now was Castiel aware that the middle of his back was slightly wet from where Jack had pressed against him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Why are you wet?”

“Dean kissed me.”

That was an interesting image to conjure. His lovers clinging to each other, mouths locking together. Castiel wished he’d put a camera in the bathroom to record it.

He pulled the other steaks before overdoing them. “He likes you.”

Jack went a little too stiff beside him. “Is that a problem?”

Why was Jack edgy about that statement? Castiel frowned slightly. “Of course not.”

Jack let out a sigh and the tension went out of him.

As Castiel pulled the other pans from the stove, his brow furrowed more. Jack had shown a liking to Dean early on. The whole point of this relationship was the three of them dating each other. Why shouldn’t Jack feel fine with developing feelings for their third? Castiel was already finding Dean’s charms irresistible.

Developing—perhaps Jack had _developed_ more than a ‘feeling.’ Castiel tilted his head. Not a wholly unexpected consequence. Jack had said he was in love with Castiel a mere three weeks after their meeting. While their time together had been intense, Castiel couldn’t help doubting Jack’s words.

Seeing Jack look almost guilty—at the very least nervous—that Castiel would become upset that Dean liked Jack, he had to wonder. Jack had meant those three words when he said them. Why else would Jack choose to stay after the fight? He wanted to make this work, and that likely came from some emotion more than ‘liking’ him. The same way he was falling for Dean now.

“You’re in love with him,” Castiel said as if it was the simplest fact in the world.

The startled look on Jack’s face would have been funny if the moment between them wasn’t so serious. A smirk still worked its way onto Castiel’s lips. He kissed Jack quickly. “Why would I be mad about that?”

“It’s awfully fast,” Jack murmured.

Castiel brushed his fingers along Jack’s cheek in order to draw his gaze back. “I told you once that this relationship, the three of us, didn’t have a chance if you didn’t trust me. The reverse is true. I trust you, Jack. And I trust him. I hardly need to dominate every single one of your thoughts to know I matter.”

Jack folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “That confident?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you? You want this to work as much as I do or you would have said no.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You must be feeling better. You’re observant and insightful to a scary degree.”

“Scary?”

“In a good way,” Jack said. “It’s what makes you such a good dom.”

Castiel frowned again, but before he could voice another question, Jack kissed him.

“You should sit down,” Jack said. The tempo between them shifted. Jack was swinging into an upbeat again.

Everything was beginning to ache more, so Castiel limped over to a chair. His ankle was upset at the amount of pressure it’d been forced to endure. He tried not to groan with relief when he was finally sitting again.

Dean shoved away from the hallway wall. He’d obviously been lurking there and listening. How much had he heard? Did it matter? Castiel was more bothered that Dean had sought to hide and eavesdrop when he belonged in the room with them. Caught in the act, Dean brushed his hand through the back of his hair as he walked into the dining space.

“About time,” Jack said. “Food’s getting cold.”

Dean came over to the dining table, right within Castiel’s reach. While he’d chosen to slip into underwear, Castiel liked the black lace. He trailed a finger along its edge.

Dean jumped a little. Enough to make Castiel smirk. “I like them,” he said.

A bright warm smile crossed Dean’s lips. He hovered next to Castiel. He smelled so good. The hint of vanilla mixed with the natural smell of his clean skin. Somehow, Dean carried that reminder of leather in his scent. His smooth skin was broken here and there with small scars. Dean had mentioned fights and painful recoveries. With a gentle touch, Castiel traced one jagged scar across Dean’s ribs.

They were watching _him_. Jack kept an eye on him even though he was finishing plating their food and Dean naturally had his eyes on Castiel. Excitement pulsed up through Castiel. Jack liked watching reactions almost as much as Castiel did and Dean wanted to submit. Those long ago chatroom conversations had displayed that urge. Choosing to play in the game this weekend was a more obvious sign.

This weekend was about what they wanted, even Castiel. He drew his arm around Dean’s waist and brought him closer. Then, with his lips, he traced kisses along that same scar.

Dean’s breath hitched. Hesitantly, he slid his hand along Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel nipped at him and Dean reflexively tightened his hold. The small joy of his reaction led Castiel to bite him gently a few more times.

Jack laughed once while setting plates onto the table. “Save him for desert.”

Dean blushed and Castiel chuckled. Castiel drew his fingers across Dean’s skin one more time before withdrawing. He caught Dean’s gaze and said, “You’re beautiful.”

Now Dean’s whole body flushed a ruddier color.

“Okay, you’re right,” Jack said. “I could watch his face all weekend.”

Dean glared at him and Jack laughed lightly in return.

“You’re expressive,” Castiel told him. “And the way you move is unique.”

“Cas suggested the silence game,” Jack explained.

“It’s too easy to lie with words,” Castiel replied. “There’s something pure in quiet.”

Jack brought over their drinks and sat down at the table. He and Castiel shared a corner together.

Dean stood staring at another chair and then between the two of them. Neither Jack nor Castiel had even hinted that he could sit at the table, and they had no intention. Castiel watched and waited for Dean to pick up on that fact. They’d barely experimented with what Dean liked. This act was a push at boundaries to see how well Dean submitted and if he enjoyed submission as much as he thought he would. When Dean swept his gaze back to Castiel’s eyes for a third time, Castiel glanced at the floor between their seats.

Confusion crossed Dean’s features first and quickly a different sort of blush reddened his cheeks. Not anger, humiliation. They had outlined that Dean had the right to question things he didn’t like and for a second, he looked as if he was going to say something. Instead, he sat down with his brow slightly furrowed.

So he was willing to try. Castiel smiled at him and brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Thank you,” he said.

Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“You’re supposed to compliment when a pet does well,” Castiel said, “and thank a submissive for playing.”

“You have a thing for manners,” Jack said. He took a bite-size piece of Dean’s steak and put it in the palm of his hand before offering it to Dean.

Dean stared at both of them for a second and then darted forward to capture the piece of meat with his mouth.

“Good boy,” Castiel said before finally turning his attention to his plate. To Jack, he said, “We’ve been together for a year and you’ve only noticed now?”

“I noticed before.” Jack shrugged. “We’ve never talked about it.”

There was a great deal they had never talked about. Castiel took a turn at feeding Dean. This time Dean didn’t hesitate to take the food.

“Have you wanted to?” Castiel asked.

Jack dropped his gaze and raised that expression guard.

Castiel frowned at him. “What aren’t you saying?”

Jack sighed. “I never thought about asking.”

“Why not?”

After he fed another bite to Dean, Jack said, “Never seemed like a good time.”

That was another dodge. Troublesome. “In a year?”

Jack pursed his lips. “Look, things are changing. Let’s leave it at that.”

Castiel set down his fork. His frown changed to a stern glare. “You’re trying to avoid saying something unpleasant. You’re afraid of fighting.”

Jack sighed loudly. “I didn’t feel like an equal.”

“You didn’t—” Castiel’s voice drifted away. While he had to keep the secrets of his job, Castiel thought he’d done everything he could to make this place a home for him.

“It’s complicated,” Jack said.

Another unacceptable answer.

Picking up on Castiel’s displeasure, Jack continued, “I didn’t care, okay? I slipped into the role of your submissive and went with what you said.”

“Submissives are equal partners in a relationship. If I made you feel—”

“It wasn’t you,” Jack said. “I spent too much time with people who didn’t see it that way. I’ve been working on that lately.”

Considering Jack’s emotional state when they met, Castiel should have known. Jack had displayed dependent signs early on, but he thought Jack had moved past that at least six months ago. “I have to hide secrets because of my job,” he murmured. “That hindered your recovery. That’s why you’ve gotten so upset. You thought I saw you as less?”

“There is what you said at the airport,” Jack said. “About what you need the others to think. And lying about the bodyguard job.”

Castiel didn’t want to remember that argument. Or that Uriel had been right there to remind him of his duties. The last person he wanted to think about this weekend was that asshole ‘brother’ of his.

Worse than the bruises was the sharp mental pain brought on by Jack’s former assumptions. He frowned at his plate. How had he let Jack think that submissive meant inferior? Was Dean learning that from him? With Dean, he had a clean slate with what the scene meant. Someone else had taught Jack everything he knew and somewhere along the line he’d been broken. Castiel thought the pieces were back together, but maybe the glue hadn’t finished drying.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel bad about yourself. That wasn’t my intention by offering you the job. I coddled you out of fear and I should have seen my mistake sooner. I want you to feel like an equal. Both of you.”

“And I’m sorry I blew up the other day.” Jack reached out and took his hand. “We’ll heal.”

Castiel laced his fingers in Jack’s. Dean leaned his head against Castiel’s leg. A long-held tension finally eased out of Castiel. While he had hoped that this weekend would go a long way in fixing their relationship, Castiel hadn’t expected this sort of confession between them. He should have. These were the words they needed to say and if they’d had a conversation weeks ago, maybe the shouting match wouldn’t have happened. Pain could have been avoided.

Lamenting on the past would get him nowhere. They were better now. And their food was getting abysmally cold. Castiel plucked up his fork and glared down at his plate. He squinted a little before raising his eyes to Jack. “I messed up dinner.”

“Well, I’ve had worse,” Jack said.

Castiel glanced at Dean. “I know you haven’t had much, but is it a disaster?”

Dean had a cheeky grin. “Yes, master.”

“We thinking take out or trying something else with this?” Jack asked.

“Anything else,” Castiel replied.

Dean shrugged.

“Take out it is,” Jack said. He stood, picking up his and Castiel’s plates as he did so. “Should we try to save it?”

Dean snorted, “Duh.”

Castiel was about to say the opposite. Why keep not great food? But Jack had mentioned that Dean knew how to cook. The other man probably had some idea for the food. Castiel supposed he took for granted the ability to go out and buy new whenever he wanted. Dean lived dollar to dollar—which would leave no room for tossing salvageable food out. Castiel had a lot to learn, and not just about food.

“Save it,” Castiel said as he brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair again.

As Jack moved the food into plastic containers, Castiel watched. Jack seemed not to slouch. He had a straightness in his shoulders and along his spine that Castiel had rarely seen. For once, Castiel felt that he didn’t have to worry about Jack’s well being. Jack was all right. Even better, he wanted to be here with them. Dean wanted to be with them.

For the first time in too long, Castiel finally relaxed. Or he would, if he wasn’t sitting at this table. He rose from his seat and Dean rose with him. “I’m stealing Dean for snuggling on the couch.”

“All right,” Jack said.

They had to be careful of the injuries, but they found a position with Castiel on bottom—though Dean still had plenty of couch to support him. He was warm, clean, and soft in just the right places. Physical and emotional exhaustion caught up to Castiel right after he agreed to pizza. He dropped off into dreamland.


	37. Chapter 37

Okay, so Dean hadn’t known exactly what he’d have to do in order to earn a collar from Cas and Jack, but if he’d been asked that afternoon, he would have assumed that it’d be kinky.

Instead, everything seemed to be going like a normal couple’s—uh, threesome? He had no clue what the proper term was for their relationship was—night in. Maybe not a perfect night since Cas and Jack had had that awkward conversation over the miserably cooked dinner. Truth be told, Dean was glad he was on the floor and ordered quiet for the time being. They hadn’t fought in front of him, but if he’d been forced to be part of that conversation, or a more obvious witness to it, he’d have felt obligated to say something. The way it went, he felt more than okay not bungling with his mere presence. He was happy they’d reached some sort of understanding because that underlying tense mood between them had dropped a few more degrees away.

But so far, the table feeding was the kinkiest thing tonight. Dean had cuddled up with Cas until pizza arrived, got to feed himself since his stomach had gotten audibly hungry, and now he was cuddled back up with Cas and Jack on the couch watching some lame chick flick.

Honestly, he was bored out of his mind, but his head was in Cas’s lap and he was stretched in such a way that his legs were across Jack’s. Cas ran fingers through his hair and Jack teased light patterns along his skin, which was nice, but not what Dean had wanted tonight.

It’d been a hard week. He wanted to get laid.

Finally, _finally_ , the movie ended and Dean sighed under his breath. They’d have to do something else.

“Sequel?” Jack asked.

Dean groaned.

Both Cas and Jack gave him disapproving looks. He scowled back at them. No one had said he had to _like_ what they were doing at the moment.

They hadn’t seemed like sadists, but Cas flicked the Netflix cursor over to the freaking sequel and it started up.

All right, they wanted him to be a pet and do non-verbal communication; he could do that. Giving one or both of them a lap dance would get his point across. Dean raised his head out of Cas’s lap.

Cas lightly put a hand on Dean’s collarbone to stop him. “Do you have to urinate?”

“No, master.”

“Cramped?”

“No, master.”

“Then lie back down,” Cas commanded.

Dean glared up at the other man, snorted, and dropped back down into his former position.

“Someone’s spoiled,” Jack said.

 _Spoiled?_ Dean was getting tortured here. The opening credits of the second movie had barely begun.

“You were worse,” Cas said. He reached down, took Dean’s hand, and drew it above his head. He laced their fingers together.

Jack took Dean’s other hand and locked their fingers together.

If he wasn’t getting pissed, this would actually be really sweet.

“I remember obeying just fine,” Jack said.

“I didn’t train you until three months in,” Cas said.

They were swimming back into ‘Dean had no place in the conversation again’ territory. He went still between them and tried to make himself seem like he was not there. Dad and Sam used to do this sort of thing, so he started slipping into that headspace where he didn’t really hear what was going on around him.

Tactic would have worked, except Cas’s free hand strayed across his nipples and Jack was caressing his inner thighs.

“I earned a collar in our first weekend,” Jack said.

“You didn’t feel right without one,” Cas replied. “You would have drifted away. I wanted to keep you here.”

Dean darted his tongue over his bottom lip and tried not to squirm. They roamed their hands over him—Jack sliding his hand up Dean’s chest and Cas tracing every scar he saw. Jack let the weight of his other arm hold down Dean’s legs and Cas had pinned his hand to the couch arm.

Dean’s erection was slow building, but it was coming. The silk of the panties rubbed ever so slightly against him if he moved even a little. They were purposefully taking their time with him. Not wanting to disrupt their conversation, he held in a moan, though that only got him harder.

“What are you thinking?” Cas asked Jack.

“You mean you’re not a mind reader?” Jack replied with the edge of bitterness to his voice.

Cas’s hand paused.

Jack raised his eyes to Cas. “How do you know so much?”

“I watch.”

“But if the training wasn’t with the collar, then when?” Jack said.

“I’m not _that_ good. Think about it.”

Jack frowned only to light up with a smile three seconds later. “That time I wasn’t allowed to make any kind of noise.”

“You were trying too hard to make the sounds you thought I wanted to hear,” Cas said. “You were constantly doing that.”

Dean frowned up in confusion. Was there a reason behind his silence game?

“I said it earlier. Words make lying easy. Silence is one of my kinks.” Cas brushed his fingers along Dean’s jaw and grinned mischievously at him. “And you swear too much.”

Dean snorted again. He went to stick his tongue out.

Jack slid his hand across Dean’s cock at the same moment, so instead Dean arced and gasped out of surprise. Jack chuckled. “Then by comparison, Dean’s being a very good boy.”

“Apart from the glaring, he’s been an exceptionally good boy. Comparison or not.”

Jack drew his fingers across the lace. “Maybe we should take him into the playroom.”

Wait, there was a play room? How had he missed that? Dean frowned and thought over the different doors. He’d seen behind all but one, but that had to be Cas’s office. Only no one had ever said that Cas had an office and he was the kind of workaholic that would have needed to go in there even when he was home sick. Dean hadn’t bothered opening the door because he hadn’t needed anything behind it.

Jack was grinning at him and then over at Cas. “Okay, I’m really liking this silence part.”

Dean gave him a not-quite-meaning-it glare.

Of course that made Jack chuckle. He ran his fingers along Dean’s erection again and held him when he squirmed.

“It’s time,” Cas agreed.

“We’ll give you a head start.”

Cas released Dean and though Jack went to help, Dean managed to get up and out of the way on his own. As they watched, Cas used the crutches to go to the back of the apartment. He’d gotten a good handle on moving that way and Dean pushed away the worry he’d felt when Cas got up.

‘Sides, he wasn’t supposed to worry this weekend. That was Jack’s duty.

After another minute, Jack released Dean’s legs and lightly pushed them off his lap. “Come on.”

With nervous excitement, Dean let Jack lead the way to the playroom. Jack paused by the door long enough to grin over his shoulder at Dean and then sweep the door wide open.

In the scant few minutes Dean had learned about the room, he visualized a dozen different looks from all the research he’d seen online and from all the porn he’d watched over the years. If given enough time, he might’ve been able to pick out what Cas and Jack were more likely to have in their sex dungeon. However, on a limited time schedule, he hadn’t had a freaking clue what they had.

The floor was a dark hardwood and well shined in the bright white light of the room. Against either sidewall was a series of cabinets—some big, some much smaller. Metal hooks and large eyebolts ran sporadically over the ceiling and along the far wall.

For all of that gear, two things stuck out more than the rest. At the center of the room was a Saint Andrew’s Cross made out of dark wood and leather straps hung from it like some kind of BDSM streamers. Beside it, Cas sat in a glorious, high-back throne of a chair.

Yeah, okay, this was worth the wait.

Jack strode in and bent down to kiss Cas. Watching it was intense and yet Cas moaned only when Jack drifted back away from him.

Cas motioned for Dean to come close.

He obeyed, though he was still feeling a little out of body going on with this. He’d had fantasies about winding up in a place like this, but the reality was a huge shock. A good, pleasant, sure-to-fuel-daydreams-the-rest-of-his-days kind of shock. More than once, he licked his bottom lip on his way over to Cas.

Jack was already off to the side and stripping off his shirt.

“Knees,” Cas said.

Dean got down before him.

Much like their first time, Cas caressed Dean lightly and then kissed him. Dean wanted the kiss to go on, but Cas leaned backed out of range.

“Stand up,” Jack said.

Dean rose. Jack tugged him backwards a few steps before repeating the same ritual, only Jack’s caresses ran over a good portion of his body and included sliding the underwear off. In that kiss, Dean slid his hands up Jack’s arms. Jack had such a passion in the way his tongue pressed in and Dean found himself more than willing to open up to him. A low deep moan worked its way up through him.

Jack smiled broadly at him. He had a confidence, an air of happiness that Dean hadn’t seen. The whole manner Jack moved had shifted.

Cas had seen that, too, if his hungry expression was anything to go by.

As Jack walked away to a cabinet, Dean suddenly felt shy and exposed. Cas was simply staring at him. Evaluating or something. Despite being undressed most of the evening, Dean was naked in front of the other man. He almost went to cover up his erection, except Cas had seen it before and likely wanted to see it now. He was certainly smiling in that small, coy way.

“Stamina or control?” Jack asked.

“Control.” Cas tilted his head. “He’s shown good discipline.”

Somehow getting talked about like he wasn’t standing a few feet away from Cas wasn’t as awkward as Dean thought it would be. Maybe ‘cause it distracted him from the anticipation of not knowing what would come next.

Jack opened a cabinet. “Fewer toys tonight, the better, I’m thinking.”

“That’s a wise decision,” Cas said.

Jack took out a pair of leather cuffs, already linked together with a thick, two-inch chain. “Hold out your hands, Dean.”

Dean held them out in front of his body. A warm happy grin broke over him when Jack buckled on one cuff and then the other. The grin felt ridiculous, but he couldn’t stow it. This was what he wanted, badly, and so far compiling was easy.

Once Dean’s wrists were bound, Jack ordered, “Hands on the back of your head. Feet shoulder-width apart.”

Easy position.

Jack lifted Dean’s chin a fraction, corrected his posture slightly, and then kissed Dean’s cheek. “Keep your eyes on Cas and stay. You begin to cramp up or it hurts too much, you ask to stop, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean purred.

“You ever done anything like this before?”

“No, sir.”

“I won’t fault you for involuntary movements. That wouldn’t be fair. Your goal is to stay as still as possible, that’s all.”

Jack kissed him and Dean kept to the game by keeping his mouth still until Jack pushed it open. “Cheeky,” Jack said with more than a bit amusement.

Then Jack moved behind him and Dean had only Cas to stare at.

That fierce, hungry look dominated Cas’s blue eyes. Dean hadn’t seen it since the hotel nights and its return made his already hard cock even harder.

Jack slid his hands along Dean’s back. He roamed over his spine, his sides, and more of his skin lightly at first. The first minutes were too easy for Dean and he almost goaded Jack, except he couldn’t talk or move. After several minutes of light touching, Jack explored more sensitive regions—one that caused Dean to shiver or gasp and sent more blood thudding through lower regions.

Cas’s knowing grin was turning what would be simple touching into more and more erotic caresses. Jack used his mouth—licking, kissing, and nipping—and suddenly what was easy became hard. Dean dipped his head a fraction while he panted and then strove to keep his chin up where it belonged.

By the time Jack went to his knees, a light sweat had broken across Dean’s skin. Dean panted, swallowed, and fought to keep his chin up. As a result, he couldn’t see where Jack was, only feel his breath against his belly. Jack blew a light line of air against Dean’s erection and Dean groaned. Jack’s mouth had to be less than an inch away and he wasn’t allowed to nudge himself forward.

Cas was watching all this happen. Just watching. When Jack blew on him a second time and Dean moaned, Cas finally moved a smidge. He broadened his legs. His erection laid trapped beneath the suit material. Dean saw it and licked his lips.

“You can’t come until I say,” Cas said.

“Yes, master.” The words flew out of him without thought.

Jack licked his shaft.

Now, now Dean had to focus. He’d had his hands bound during blowjobs before, but typically he had some kind of support. This free-standing position required a lot more energy out of him. Jack was good with his mouth. Licking, sucking, and taking Dean all the way in quickly, Jack went from a slow, teasing speed to a full bobbing and bouncing technique.

The stimulation, the orders, having Cas watching—all of it was hotter than Dean had imagined. Jack’s tongue along his cock nearly pushed him over the edge. Cas hadn’t given permission. Dean couldn’t even beg.

They wanted him to hold out. Dean latched on to that thought. The burning need in his gut wanted to explode up through him. Dean tried to keep his position, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open and his arms in place. Took everything he had not to rock into Jack’s mouth like he wanted.

Cas stroked himself lightly through his suit pants.

Dean whimpered in a high sound and his arms swung in closer to his head. At least this way he kept his head locked in position. He wanted to be better and he tried to force them back out, but he kept closing them back in. Another long whimper emitted from him.

“You can come,” Cas said.

Jack deep-throated him and Dean erupted. His head tilted back as he moaned low and long. Seemed like he’d come forever, but he was done in seconds and Jack was pulling his mouth off.

Dean’s legs turned to jelly and Jack caught him before he fell to the floor. Jack laughed gently, moving Dean’s bound wrists away from his head, and embraced him on the floor. A few dazed seconds passed before Dean knew where he was. He had his head on Jack’s shoulder and they’d somehow wound up facing Cas.

Jack kissed Dean’s forehead and stroked his hair. “You did very well.”

Dean nuzzled him more. Cas was watching them and he wanted to slide over to him, help take care of that still present bulge in Cas’s pants, but he didn’t have the energy to budge.

“You both did,” Cas said. “You should go get the boxes.”

“Already?”

“I want to see them on you.”

“Dean’s still a little out of it.”

“Grab some water while you go. He’ll recover soon.”

Jack kissed Dean’s forehead a second time. “Think you can take him on your lap?”

Cas nodded.

Dean had gathered enough of his senses back that Jack only had to guide him onto Cas’s lap. The throne had space for Dean to cuddle up to Cas comfortably. He shivered when Cas ran fingers over his back. 

“I’m very impressed, Dean. You did extremely well for a first time.”

The praise and tone soared through Dean. Speaking out of the question for multiple reasons, he kissed Cas languidly. He opened his mouth when Cas pushed in and moaned. He liked it here, on the other man’s lap, being touched like this, being wanted this way. Cas took over the kiss entirely and Dean clung onto him.

The post-orgasm fog cleared out of Dean’s mind and when the kiss ended, he cuddled up against Cas more carefully.

Jack returned—Dean had missed exactly when the other man had left—and he had a water bottle in one hand and four fairly thin white boxes in the other.

Cas kissed Dean’s cheek. “Get off, please.”

Dean did so and slid down to his knees beside the throne. He took the water bottle Jack offered and guzzled a bit more than he should have.

Cas took the boxes into his lap. “Such good behavior deserves an equally good reward.”

Dean perked up. Collar? Already? He hoped so.

Jack smirked at him. “Yeah, he means that.”

Cas glanced through two boxes before handing one back to Jack. “This is yours.”

Jack opened it and withdrew a black and dark blue dyed leather collar. The colors swirled together. A brass d-ring hung from the center and matched the brass buckle. “This is gorgeous. Thank you.” He leaned down and kissed Cas. Afterwards, Cas buckled the new collar onto Jack.

Dean could hardly wait. If he’d had more energy, he would have squirmed. Hell, he was tugging on his bottom lip and playing with the bottom of Cas’s pants.

“I know,” Cas said. He brought out a box and handed it to Dean. “We chose this together for you.”

Dean flipped off the box lid.

His collar was solid brown leather, almost the same shade as his hair, and had red stitching along the top and bottom. The d-ring and buckle were silver. This was expensive craftsmanship, too. He picked it up from the box.

 _His collar._ They had gone out and chosen this for _him_. Sure, Cas had given him money and Jack had helped him with the apartment, but this was something they’d gone out and gotten just for him. _His_.

Dean laid it across Cas’s leg and got up on his knees enough to make it easier for Cas to buckle the collar on. On top of looking good, it was comfortable. Once it was in place, Dean touched it. “Thank you.”

Cas smiled at him.

Dean kissed him deeply. Then he kissed Jack. Jack dragged him close. They groped at each other and Dean broke off when his cock grew semi-hard. Jack drifted his hands down to cup Dean’s ass before turning his head to look at Cas. “I think we should thank our master.”

Dean grinned at Cas. He had more than a few ideas on how to thank Cas and Jack. “Yes, sir.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter edges onto territory about Jack's rock-bottom period. Memory likes to show its head when it wants. Sorry that this chapter was delayed.

The weight of a collar against his throat was something Jack hadn’t had in weeks. He’d last worn one in Chicago. For the first few minutes, he enjoyed the feel of it against his skin. With Dean warm and horny against him, Jack delved into touching every bit his fingers reached. When he palmed Dean’s ass in both hands, the younger man surged up wrapped arms around his shoulders. Cas watched them with eager, hungry eyes. The kiss was perfect.

Dean was eager to do whatever they wanted. Naïve enough to try anything once.

Jack took in a deep breath, felt the strain of the collar against his skin, and something low slipped under his skin. Something felt wrong.

Ignore it and move on. Best policy in the galaxy.

Jack moved his lovers to the bedroom. Cas couldn’t stand on his own, let alone engage in more vigorous activity. For his part, Dean kept a dopey smile across his face. An eagerness infused every quick glance and attempt to restrain his glee.

Some reason, Jack’s stomach was becoming a colder and colder pit. He shoved away the disturbance in his thoughts. His lovers expected something out of him in the moment, and not to sit and analyze whatever was bugging him. So, he forced a smile and faked his way into a happier mood.

Dean practically jumped on the bed and Cas grinned at him.

What the hell was going on with Jack? He liked the new collar, adored the smile on Cas’s face, enjoyed the way his lovers were crawling on the bed, and yet, he wanted to leave. Get some air.

He took a deep shaky breath and buried that weird feeling under another layer.

Getting Cas stripped was fun until the bruises were exposed. Jack ran his fingers lightly around each dark spot. Even though they were careful with him, Cas groaned more than once before they had him stretched out on the bed. The drugs and injuries weren’t affecting his arousal. Cas was hard and Dean was fascinated.

And Jack was fighting that edge of sickness.

 _“He’s greedy for it_.”

Okay, who did _that_ voice belong to? Why was it intruding on his thoughts now?

Jack let out a long sigh and pushed Dean down onto the bed. He held onto the other’s hips, stilling them underneath his hands, and forced himself to grin.

Cas sat up on his elbows. His gaze narrowed a fraction. Not anger—no, that would be too easy for Jack to manage right now—but studying Jack.

In a vain hope to convince himself that everything was fine, he kissed Dean. He wanted to be more than fine. He wanted to be as into this as he was when he’d been sucking on Dean. And Dean was certainly opening up beneath him.

Someone had been laughing at him. Not here and now, but long ago.

Damn it. Cas was getting startled.

Dean responded to the forcefulness from Jack that seemed so much like play. He moaned as Jack pinned his wrists down to the bed. Squirmed when Jack rolled up against him.

There, the erection was coming back. Dean wrapped legs around him and kissed at him.

So easy to spread Dean wide and pound into him until whatever this was left him. Jack dragged teeth over Dean’s nipple, bit at his ribs, and settled low on his belly to suck at the tender flesh there. Between hickeys, he said to Cas, “Lube.”

Cas fished it out of the nightstand. Those blue eyes had the element of steel to them.

Jack put lube on his fingers and then worked at Dean’s hole. Suddenly his world was narrowed down to opening Dean. Anything to stop the flood of memories rocking the back of his mind. Because that’s what those voices were. And those echoes were growing.

Dean gasped and arched under Jack’s hands. His skin turned ruddier. He bit at his lips until they swelled.

 _“I will never use you.”_ Cas had said those words. He’d upheld them.

But he’d lied over and over.

They were supposed to be over that. Moved past. Giving this a genuine shot.

Jack bent to Dean’s other side and bit at him. He rolled up and Dean’s hips naturally slotted themselves in place. All Jack had to do was open his pants, push into Dean, and let himself forget again. Slip into him, use him until this depressing vibe—

Dean was tugging at him, whimpering. Rubbing up against him. Willing to please, happy to comply.

Panting, Jack broke away. He cleared the bed.

Thankfully, Dean lay where he’d been left.

Cas, on the other hand, watched him.

That smile wasn’t coming back. Where the hell had it gone? What was _wrong_ with him? Jack had been all about the sex up until a few moments ago. Screw the random disturbing thought. Everyone had expectations out of him. He needed to perform.

Dean raised his head off the bed.

This was supposed to be fun time for the three of them, but what was _wrong_?

Another deep breath, in an attempt to clear his mind, and his throat reminded him of that collar again.

 _Cas had given this to him_. He’d wanted a new one, hadn’t he?

Jack’s fingers flew up to it and he traced along its edge. This collar was the source of the problem. This reminder. Cas had admitted getting him into one in order to make him stay. Was this new one just another way to lock Jack into place?

He needed to wrench this thing off of him, but that might change things too much. Might change how Dean felt about everything and Dean was relaxed and happy.

“Dean,” Jack managed. “Kitchen. Cabinet beside the fridge, get the honey.”

Dean hopped off the bed and hurried.

With Cas still watching, Jack took the collar off. He sat down beside him. “It’s beautiful, but I can’t wear this. Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because everything is not okay.” Jack handed the collar over to Cas. “You haven’t earned the right to put one back on me yet.”

“Are you—” Cas cleared his throat. “Are you still staying?”

Damn if he didn’t sound broken. He wasn’t that good of an actor. At last, he wanted to change things between them. Jack took Cas’s hand. “I promised to give this a real chance. I just can’t wear that.”

Cas nodded.

Jack couldn’t leave Cas without some kind of positivity. If anything, his heart was tugging too much in Cas’s direction when his more logical side was telling him to break this off. Cas had lied, would keep lying from necessity. But he was a good man and he was trying to fix their relationship. “When we’re better, we’ll play with it.”

Their kiss was quick and kind. A small token of hope.

Dean came back into the room. While Jack rose, Cas slipped the collar into a nightstand drawer. Dean frowned, pointed at his collar and pointed to Jack’s neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said.

Dean continued to frown.

Jack held out his hand. “Bottle.”

With a snort, Dean handed over the small bear.

Jack kissed his cheek and murmured, “I think I said something about you being for dessert. Lay down on the bed.”

A smile worked over Jack’s lips in echo to Dean’s.

And Dean made such a pretty picture on the bed like that. He had such a happy, dopey grin.

Jack uncapped the bottle. “You’ll have to lay still. Cas hates messing up the bed.” He crawled up onto the bed on Dean’s other side. Honey drizzled down from the bottle and he swirled light lines across Dean’s chest.

Cas rolled towards Dean and licked the first line away.

Finally that nauseous feeling had fled out of Jack’s stomach. He brushed back Cas’s hair and watched Dean squirm. After a moment, he bent down to lick at a missed spot of honey.


	39. Go Slow and Gentle

Parts of Dean’s chest and stomach were sticky from the honey, though Cas and Jack were leaving wet trails as they licked and sucked away the mess. Dean arched his back as Cas tenderly bit at a honey-covered scar. His lovers worked in tandem and all he could do was pant and moan at their effort.

He wanted more contact. He wanted one of them inside him. If they hadn’t laid that rule about speaking, he’d be begging already.

Now Cas was leaving a hickey. Dean bit his lip as he glanced down, but all he could see was the mess of dark hair. That was three marks, besides the collar. If one of them would finally fuck him, he’d feel completely claimed by them.

Jack drew his fingers down Dean’s side and nipped at his ear. Eager for the touch, Dean pushed towards Jack’s hand only to have Cas hold down his hip. Forever caught between the two, it seemed, and that thought alone would have brought Dean’s erection back if the hickeys hadn’t. He was hard and they weren’t going anywhere near his cock. It throbbed to an almost painful degree.

A high-pitched whine came out of Dean and he whimpered. Showing how badly he wanted them was not in the macho handbook. Letting two men reduce him to a pile of nerves—well, turned out that he’d come to terms with that. The sudden epiphany—that being the bottom with two men and having that excite him instead of feeling ashamed—shocked him. Who knew that Dean Winchester would actually get off on this?

Cas must have had a clue. And Jack. Fuck, he’d gotten lucky running into them.

Dean would consider himself luckier if one of them would do something about his cock. Or fuck him.

Cas was sucking another hickey into his side.

Arching again, Dean gasped. A single, whimpered, “Please” broke free of his lips.

Jack chuckled in a warm, amused way. “Cas, I think we’re bordering on torture.”

“I’m not done,” Cas said in a low, rough voice.

Involuntarily, Dean moaned.

“Sounds like someone likes the dominant voice,” Jack cooed. He stroked Dean’s hair and cheek.

Cas raised his head. Blue eyes met bright green. Something in his face must have given away how far gone Dean was because Cas grinned in triumph. He brushed his fingers a fraction above Dean’s erection and Dean bucked up into his hand. In that same, low voice, Cas said, “You’re ours.”

“Yes,” Dean panted.

Somehow, Dean’s head had gotten into Jack’s lap. Cas was moving across Dean again and licking those few missed spots of honey.

“What’s easiest on you?” Jack asked Cas.

Cas huffed, a wave of breath hitting the wet parts of Dean’s skin, and glanced up at them. “Honestly, not much.”

That was disheartening. Dean fought to keep the frown off his face. Jack had already backed off once and Cas didn’t feel well. Were they really going to leave him this revved up? All foreplay, no sex?

“Lay down again,” Jack said.

“Are you the master now?” Cas teased.

A predator’s malice tinged Jack’s voice. “I could be. Lay down.”

Cas rolled over onto his back.

Dean immediately missed the presence of the other man against his skin. He tilted his head back to look at Jack. Strange, Jack still wasn’t hard. Dean turned his head towards Jack’s crotch.

“I don’t need help there. You ever ride a cock before?”

Oh, so that’s where this was going. Dean grinned and purred, “Yes, sir.”

Jack smiled back. “Okay then.”

Dean sat up, but before he could move over to Cas, Jack caught him in a kiss. By the end of it, Dean was panting.

“Be careful,” Jack said quietly. “Go slow and gentle.”

As if _that_ was what Dean wanted. He drew in a deep breath to complain and had to swallow that down. The collar around his neck meant releasing that control to Cas and Jack. All part of the game. Besides, obedience would be rewarded. So Dean only nipped a kiss from Jack’s lips and said, “Yes, sir.”

In a quick, confident movement, Dean straddled Cas’s hips. He hadn’t done this in years, maybe almost a decade. The fact that Cas was going to be the first one in a long time was a good thing. Sorta made this special. Dean leaned over—careful not to hit any of Cas’s injuries—and grabbed the lube from beside the pillows. Jack had done a good job before, but a little too long had passed.

Dean glanced Jack’s way. The other man had settled in against the headboard. This was going to be the Dean and Cas show. That was fine by Dean. Exciting, and a smidge intimidating, but fine.

After a minute of reapplication, Dean capped the lube and tossed it onto the nightstand. Cas watched the whole process with a firm patience. Those were the only words Dean could think of to match that expression. Dean bit at his bottom lip as he took Cas’s cock in hand. Cas grabbed onto his hips while Dean slowly worked on sliding all the way down Cas’s cock. By the time he was seated, Cas was grunting and panting.

Having Cas in him was good. Dean flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and raised his eyes to meet Cas’s. Lust clouded Cas’s eyes. Dean grinned mischievously. He rotated his hips a fraction. Cas moaned.

Dean explored the different ways to rotate his hips, how to slide up and down Cas’s length without hurting him, and the way to stretch his upper body so that Cas couldn’t take his eyes off him. A few minutes later, Dean found a perfect early pace that kept Cas moaning. He glanced at Jack.

Jack seemed aloof. Distant.

Cas bucked up and Dean dropped his focus to Cas beneath him. Soon Cas kept bucking up with a steady stream of grunts. They were both breaking out in heavy sweats. Dean ran a hand through his hair and tilted his head back. Cas’s cock felt like it was getting deeper and deeper into him. No one had said Dean had permission to come and he was getting closer. Looking down at Cas sent him further to that edge.

Suddenly Jack was behind him. He stayed on his knees as he straddled Cas and he kissed Dean’s neck and shoulders.

Cas moaned the most erotic noise Dean had ever heard—or at least it seemed that way in the moment. Dean tilted his head to the side and panted, “Please.”

Jack rolled his hands around Dean’s hips and down to his cock. With quick, precise strokes, he set an agonizing rhythm. He whispered against Dean’s ear, “Come when you’re ready.”

Dean was riding on the edge. Orgasm burned at him, though it stayed right out of reach. One more, one more. If he could slide down, get Cas to strike the right part, then he’d gain that relief. There. Cas thrust up and against that spot. Jack stroked up.

And Dean came with a loud shout. Everything was suddenly a mess of heat and limbs and sweat. Cas’s cry echoed Dean’s and more heat flooded through Dean. Time suspended as focus came down to a singular point. Ecstasy.

Afterwards, his consciousness sloped towards dreamland. He was vaguely aware that someone was going to the hassle of cleaning up. Small, soft content sounds slipped out of him. Jack kissed him. Dean sighed in happiness—not caring that he didn’t remember crawling under the blankets. He did whimper when Jack took the collar off him.

“You can have it back in the morning,” Jack said. He kissed him again.

“Good.” Dean found a way to snuggle up against Cas. He quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Tonight had been _perfect_.


	40. Can't I just call?

Castiel brushed his fingers through Dean’s short hair slowly. Dean had fallen asleep so quickly against him that Jack had struggled a moment to get them clean enough for bed. Unspoken between them, Jack had naturally situated Dean into Castiel’s arms. The soft, welcoming warmth of the young man was good. Castiel felt a tenderness rising up that he hadn’t had in a long time.

Jack tucked the blanket up around them and then drifted back.

With a frown, Castiel caught his wrist. The matter of the collar he understood. He had pushed too hard too fast for their repaired and renewed relationship. Yet that didn’t explain why Jack was so distant. He hadn’t even grown hard when watching Dean ride Castiel.

Jack eased his wrist out of Castiel’s grip without any effort. Castiel hadn’t held on tightly, but Jack had had the strength and leverage to make an easy getaway. “Get some sleep.”

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked.

“Nothing,” Jack lied.

He was a terrible liar. While he may have made a living at it once, Castiel never had a problem seeing through Jack’s attempts at deception or deflection. Something was wrong. After all, Jack had hardly participated once they’d moved to the bedroom.

No words seemed to do justice to the moment. How could they move forward if Castiel kept apologizing for the same thing? A thing he couldn’t even fix? His job required secrets. An Angel could only trust another Angel. But he had spent a year with Jack. If anything, these last few days had shown that Jack was still trustworthy despite their arguments.

Castiel was getting another headache. He winced. This frequency was becoming problematic. He’d have to tell Raphael about them.

“You okay?” Jack asked.

“Fine. Are you all right?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I asked if anything was wrong. It’s different.”

Jack folded his arms over his chest. “I guess it is.”

“You haven’t answered,” Castiel said.

“I need some space. That’s all.” Jack sighed. “Tonight brought up a few things I’d rather not think about.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong this time.” Jack took a few steps away. “I’ll be in the living room.”

“I hope you’ll come back to bed.”

“I will. You get some sleep.”

Castiel would have joked and said ‘Yes, sir,’ but Jack walked off into the hallway before the thought came to him.

Jack’s troubled mind was his own until he decided to let others in. Castiel couldn’t keep prying. Left alone with Dean cuddled up beside him, Castiel quickly fell asleep.

*****

Jack itched to detour into the kitchen and pour a large glass of booze. They had a total of three bottles in the apartment: one whiskey, one expensive wine, and one moderately expensive dinner wine. Long ago, Castiel had tucked them into the back of a cabinet, but Jack knew were they were and could get to them. He might not even bother with a glass.

Despite the few happy notes of the evening, his mood had gone foul. If he started drinking now to drown out the unwanted memories, he might get through their limited supply of alcohol before Cas and Dean woke up. He might even go get more if this horrific playback wouldn’t stop.

A lot of the worst times were burned out of Jack. He couldn’t remember that first night with Cas or much of the days beforehand. Yet tonight the interior mental loop focused on a bad night when he’d been on his hands and knees. Strangers had passed him around and he’d let them. Anything not to feel.

Jack hesitated beside the cabinet. Maybe this time he could control it.

Or more likely he’d wind up wasted in the morning.

Dean hadn’t seen him like that. All Dean knew was a healthier Jack. Someone finally had hope and excitement about him. If for no one else’s sake, Jack owed it to himself not to ruin Dean’s good opinion. Knowing that someone didn’t see him as some broken thing helped steady Jack.

But if not alcohol, Jack had to do something to settle his thoughts. Talking might work, but he couldn’t talk to Cas or Dean and everyone in the States would be asleep by now. Luckily for him, Jack knew people outside the U.S.

In a move to avoid the pre-morning wrath of a particular Welsh woman, Jack waited until two a.m. New York time to make the call. On the other side of the Atlantic, the time was close to seven. Not really a reasonable hour, either, but he couldn’t wait all night.

Gwen answered, “Hey there. I’m getting Anwen’s breakfast. What kind of call is this?”

“Can’t I just call?” Jack asked.

“You never ‘just call’ me at two in the morning, Jack Harkness. So please, tell me what kind this is so I know whether or not I need to beg Rhys to manage breakfast.”

Jack closed his eyes. The thought of the next words brought bile to his mouth, but they’d established protocol for a reason. “The you or it’s a bottle of whiskey kind.”

“Shit. One second.” There was some indistinct chatter, a raised male voice—Rhys getting pissed again, and then Gwen hissing something back in reply. A door slammed. “All right, I’m outside.”

“Rhys sounded angry.”

“Rhys will get over it,” Gwen replied. “We haven’t had one of these in months.”

“I shouldn’t be bothering—”

“If you hang up this phone, I am going to be on a plane and at your doorstep by day’s end. Now that will piss off my husband.”

She would be. Gwen was that stubborn. Wasn’t that the real reason he’d called her? Out of everyone he knew, Gwen refused to let him get away with the bullshit.

“It’s been a rough week. Things went sideways with Cas. He wants to make things better, but I’m worried things are too far gone.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what you’ve told me in my crisis of faith. Do you still love him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then things aren’t that gone,” Gwen said.

Jack chuckled. “I’m a little surprised to hear you say that. Thought you’d be pissed he shoved me to the edge.”

“Oh, I am all manner of not pleased that you’re wanting to drown things out with booze, but that’s the pain getting to you, not Castiel. You can blame him for the pain, but you can’t blame him for your response.”

“Have you been taking psych classes behind my back?”

“I am bored out here, so I read. Which, by the way, I saw a celeb article saying Amy’s divorce was final and that she’s shacking up with a new boy toy already.”

This was bound to happen with a celebrity of Amy’s caliber, but no one had exactly prepped Dean for the potential five seconds of fame. Dean was likely to get closer to ten if he reacted badly to the paparazzi or anyone realized how hot he was. Jack said, “Please tell me they didn’t name him.”

“So it’s true!”

“Sort of. Dean is more my boy toy than hers.”

“But what about Cas?”

“We’re all three in this,” Jack said.

“Don’t tell me you went in for the puppy trick.”

“What?”

“You know. ‘We’ll adopt a puppy and that’ll keep us together.’”

“No! It’s not like that. We had a one-night stand with him and it’s turned into a relationship. We didn’t do it to fix us.”

“Good, because that would be hell for all of you. Now, what’s he doing living with Amy?”

“She was lonely and moving in with us was going to be too fast for him.”

“So he’s got more common sense than you.”

“Seems like it.” Jack leaned back and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “You’d like him. Six feet tall. Green eyes. Face dusted with freckles. Muscular, but with this little pouch of tummy. Rough Midwestern accent. Smart, though I think he’s used to playing dumb around people. And the things he can do with his mouth.”

“You are getting dangerously close to over-sharing.”

He laughed and that felt good.

“I didn’t say to stop,” Gwen added.

So he got talking about Dean and, eventually, Cas. He focused on the good stuff until that became light and easy. Gwen shared details about her life out in the Welsh countryside. Rhys was endeavoring to drop weight again, though that wasn’t likely to happen with his ice cream habit. Anwen was beginning to talk. They were thinking about having another kid before Anwen got much older.

At the end of an hour, Jack felt like the scurrying bugs that had tried to take residence in his mind had finally gone away. He said, “Thanks, Gwen.”

“I’m happy to help, Jack.” She had that note in her voice that meant she planned on continuing as soon as she found the right words. Just before Jack was going to say goodbye, Gwen said, “I’m worried about you. Do you have a sponsor there?”

“I’m not part of a program.”

“It’s just, what if I couldn’t pick up, Jack? We’re an ocean away. What if you need someone close?”

“I’m better than I have been in months, really.”

“Please, though. Stay open to it. Don’t be afraid to join a program if that’s what you need.”

“Right now I need sleep and you need to get on with your day.”

“Jack!”

Jack took a moment. With everything going on, he couldn’t even promise himself that he wouldn’t feel that wrong urge to drink again. Dean had pulled him out of it last week and this time Jack had gotten hold of Gwen. She wasn’t wrong to worry about him. “New York’s big enough that there’s AA meetings around the clock. I promise, if I can’t get you, I’ll go.”

“I hope so. I missed you. Still do.”

“Miss you too.”

They ended the call and Jack sighed. The urge was gone for now, but Gwen was right to worry. What would happen the next time addiction came for him?

He’d worry about it then. He was tired and Cas would be up in a few hours. Finally exhausted, Jack went back into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes before slipping into bed on the other side of Dean. Jack draped an arm around Dean—his hand brushed against Cas—and he nodded off in record time.


	41. Hey Jude

Low rumbling voices invaded Dean’s consciousness. He’d been trying to convince that consciousness that morning so hadn’t come yet, but Cas and Jack’s voices confirmed the opposite. Hazarding a peek at the world, he cracked open an eyelid. Daylight in the bedroom. Damn. Morning.

Jack brushed fingertips down Dean’s arm in a sort of petting gesture.

Petting. The previous night’s activities came back in sharp, erotic play by plays. A voice in his head tried to rally up mental energy against the sheer idea of a collar. The negative feedback didn’t gain any traction this time. He’d wear the collar every day if it got Cas and Jack to look at him with that obvious lust. His obedience had turned Cas on. Everything that happened last night was _hot_.

But what had gone on with Jack in the end? Come to think of it, he hadn’t even stayed in bed afterwards.

Dean frowned and forced his eyes open enough to see, but not enough to let much of that freaking sunlight in. He was between his lovers—okay, still getting used to the plural there—and on his side. Slowly, he rolled onto his back so he could see Jack.

Jack grinned down at him. “Hey there.”

“What the hell happened last night?” Dean mumbled.

“You don’t remember?” Cas asked.

Words required effort and finding the right ones took Dean’s groggy mind an extra few seconds. “I do. I mean you—” He stared into Jack’s deep blue eyes. “—what the fuck was going on with you?”

Both lovers had gone completely still and the smile on Jack’s face faded away. He tried to plaster in a fake one, but even three-quarters asleep, Dean saw through it. After a too-long second, Jack lied, “Nothing.”

The tactful, more considerate voice in the back of Dean’s consciousness wasn’t awake to combat the bluntness. Oh, hell, wasn’t not talking something Jack and Cas were fighting about this week? Screw that. Dean cleared his throat and said, “Bullshit.”

Jack’s expression darkened. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“When that stops being hypocritical, get back to me,” Dean replied. He pushed at Jack’s arm pinning him down. “Let me up. I have to pee.”

Jack was frustrated, but he moved.

Dean stumbled away to the bathroom while the other two whispered to each other. He only had brainpower for one or two things going on and now that was foot one and foot two. By the time he finished nature’s demand, his senses had sharpened up considerably.

Crap, had he broken rules? He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. Naw. They were supposed to talk this morning before they went back into the game. But he had pissed off Jack by calling him out on his bullshit. Didn’t he have a right to do that in a relationship? Hypocrisy had no freaking place between them. Honestly though, neither did blunt rudeness.

Dean splashed some more onto his face and then wiped off the excess water. Well, he couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day.

When Dean came back into the bedroom, Jack pushed his way out of bed and headed for the other door. His shoulders were tight and his body language screamed tense.

Yeah, pissed off was a light term.

But screw playing around when Jack was pulling this hypocritical shit. Man couldn’t have it both ways. He didn’t get to storm around all angry that Cas never shared and then balk when Dean needed to know something. Dean just wasn’t in the mood to put up with it that morning.

Dean purposefully cut Jack off. The other man glowered at him, but Dean decided to stand his ground. “Dude, what the hell happened last night?”

“Flashbacks.” The one word dripped with rage.

Everything sort of clicked into the first perfectly clear thought of the morning. Jack had a boyfriend who died on a mission, he’d said something about falling into a dark place, and Cas had mentioned hampered recovery. Dean raised his gaze back up to Jack’s face and licked his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. Apparently Dean had thrown a curveball at the guy. Jack said, “What?”

“Your PTSD got to you,” Dean replied. “Should have realized instead of being such an asshole.”

Castiel finally sat up on the bed. He had a look on his face Dean hadn’t seen before. So Dean had managed to lob another curveball, except this had Cas looking at him like he was maybe one of the smarter people in the universe while waiting to see how Jack responded.

Jack frowned. “I don’t—” He glanced over his shoulder at Cas and then back to Dean. “I’m—” He folded his arms over his chest and took in a deep breath. Except all he did was shut his mouth again and stand there looking at Dean.

Now surprise worked over Dean. He tried to keep his eyes from widening, but failed badly. “You didn’t know?”

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted with a tone of voice that hurt to hear. Jack wasn’t trying to lie to just Dean, but to himself, too.

“Yeah, my dad used to say that before going on another three day bender,” Dean replied. “Look, I’m just sayin’ it fits. Flashbacks and some kind of addiction problems? Talking about Ianto for more than a second hurting that bad?”

“The flashbacks weren’t about him.”

“Were they about something traumatic?” Dean asked. “Did it have something to do with where you ended up after he died?”

Jack went silent again, but not from anger. The pain was so clear in him that Dean couldn’t help feeling empathy for him.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk,” Dean said. “I get it now. But I’m going back over to that awesome bed because I’m still a little wiped from last night.” He moved slowly towards the bed at first and then at a more normal speed. Cas held open the blankets and he slid back in next to him.

Jack stood near the doorway watching the two of them. Dean had said all he could really think of on the subject for the time being. Up to Jack to decide what to do.

*****

PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Why had the thought never crossed Jack’s mind before? Dean was right. It fit. It explained everything that felt so wrong in him. Jack clutched at his arms a little tighter and wished that he wasn’t naked in front of Cas and Dean. He was uncomfortable.

 Jack turned back towards the bed. Dean hid out underneath the sheets again and looked like he was going to try to fall back asleep. At the opposite end of the alertness spectrum, Cas sat there watching Jack like he needed to memorize every detail. Cas must have caught on to the symptoms a long time ago, but he’d never said anything. _Why hadn’t he just said something?_

Because, and Jack could almost hear the Cas’s voice in the explanation, Cas had wanted him to realize it for himself. Given enough time to heal, Jack would either figure out the mental disorder or grow past it. Cas had tried to get him to go to a psychiatrist early on in their relationship, but Jack had been so adamant about not needing a mental health clinic. He’d assumed Cas had wanted him to go for the alcohol problems, but maybe that hadn’t been the whole reason.

And Gwen? Martha? Nobody else had seen this?

Maybe they had, but Jack hadn’t exactly been in a listening mood for a long time.

He was still just standing here by the door. Originally he’d gotten up from the bed to make some coffee and light breakfast for the three of them. Now he was frozen in place. Responsibility dictated that he get his ass in the kitchen. On the other hand, breathing almost felt like shards of glass rattled around in his lungs. He wasn’t just a little unbalanced, he was _sick_.

But that sickness had a _name_. Jack could fight something with a name. He could do something about this. Get help. See a doctor. Have a professional deny or confirm Dean’s amateur suspicion. Oh, Dean was probably right and that honestly terrified Jack, but Dean didn’t have a degree or training in psychiatry. He had extensive second-hand knowledge and that couldn’t be completely dismissed. Different from an expert opinion.

Damn it, Jack couldn’t move. His breath came out shaky and he was getting cold standing out here like this. Cas watched him with that careful I’m-letting-you-decide expression. Normally Jack chose to tough it out and carry on like nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong with him.

Dean leaned up enough to look at Jack. He pursed his lips. Then he shifted over so there was space between him and Cas and tossed back the covers. “Come here.”

The words were like a siren call. Without really thinking about it, Jack went back to the bed and crawled in. Dean helped him bring the blanket back up. Warm and soft, but firm, Dean was right there and Jack locked onto him. Anything to get the world to stop spinning. Dean embraced him and it was like getting wrapped in a safe cocoon. Jack buried his face in the pillow just above Dean’s shoulder to prevent the other two from seeing the quiet tears that had leaked out from him.

He wanted to feel bad that he didn’t need Cas in this instant, but he couldn’t. Jack barely had enough in him to stay out of bad memory lane trips. Back at the beginning, he’d spent a lot of time crying next to Castiel. He couldn’t handle a repeat right now.

After a few minutes, Cas said, “I’m hungry. I’ll get our breakfast. Coffee?”

Not coffee. Not this morning. The mere word set off an unexpected flashback—Ianto setting a cup before him as they and Gwen and Rhys talked over their last strategy—and the actual drink was bound to keep him reeling. Jack clutched harder at Dean. He had to say something, but words stuck in his throat. He’d sob if he forced himself to speak and he wasn’t ready for them to acknowledge the crying. That much sympathy would break him.

The sudden extra strength clutch brought an ‘oof’ out of Dean. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m thinking it’s more of a juice morning.”

“We probably have lowered blood sugar considering last night’s activities,” Cas said.

They were changing plans because he couldn’t handle it. Guilt threaded through Jack’s thoughts. He shouldn’t force them to switch around like this. He lifted his head and tried to speak, but talking was out of the question.

“You feeling at all better is way more important than a caffeine pick-me-up,” Dean told him.

“Agreed,” Cas said.

Jack drifted back down to the pillow.

Cas got up from the bed and Jack heard the distinct click of the crutches.

“Crap, you’re not going to be able to carry shit in here,” Dean said.

“I’ll figure something out,” Cas said.

Now Jack felt like a massive inconvenience. He tensed a little.

“I’m thinking we should be able to join you out there,” Dean replied. “Maybe give us fifteen minutes?”

“All right.”

Cas left and Jack heard the echo of his crutches until he’d gotten into the kitchen.

The silence twisted against Jack. Without more to focus on, he couldn’t ignore this nagging guilt that swirled his thoughts. He failed to find a peaceful mental current. Instead, short fragments pressed their way to the forefront. More tears slipped out of him. Damn it, he wanted to be in the moment. He needed something more to help him concentrate, but he couldn’t manage to ask for anything. Frustrated and finding fault with the newest failure, he laid his head against Dean’s chest.

After another moment, Dean began singing. The sound vibrated through him. Jack had to drag himself out of the mental whirlwind in order to really hear him. It was ‘Hey, Jude.’ Dean sang it in a soft, almost quiet kind of way. And after that he hummed ‘Smoke on the Water.’

By the time the second song ended, Jack’s nerves had settled. He was calmer, more relaxed. Talking didn’t feel like it was going to be a chore anymore. Gently, he nudged his lips against Dean’s in hopes of a kiss. Dean kissed back in a slow way. Somehow he’d managed to work the kiss into another comfort tool. Jack loved him even more for it. And for the music and the way he demanded nothing when Jack needed him. Dean just let him exist beside him without any expectations.

Jack pulled back enough to look into Dean’s eyes. In this light, they were a rare vibrant green. Jack brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I love you.”

Dean tensed and frowned slightly.

Jack’s pulse quickened. He’d said it too soon or in the wrong moment. Fucked it up all over again and Dean was going to pull away—

“Shit,” Dean whispered, “it scares the crap out of me, but I love you, too.”

Jack smiled and kissed him again.

The smoke alarm began beeping.

“God damn it,” Dean said as he threw back the covers. “Cas isn’t allowed in the fucking kitchen anymore. Man’s burned fucking toast?”

Jack laughed. “Colorful choice of words. Making up for last night?”

Dean grinned, but admitted nothing. He got out of the bed and headed for the door. “Take as long as you need.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Jack watched Dean head down the hall. His voice echoed too badly for his words to have any meaning in the bedroom, but Jack caught the hint of teasing and assumed more swearing had come along. Maybe it hadn’t, though. Cas had a sort of ‘don’t use profanity around me’ vibe.

After a few more minutes, Jack climbed out of bed and got into a pair of sweatpants. He snuck his way out to the kitchen.

Cas was slicing peppers at the kitchen island while Dean rummaged through the fridge. A pan had already been tossed into the sink and the distinct odor of burnt bread pervaded the air.

This, Jack realized, this calm, oddly highly domestic thing happening before him was what was supposed to be in a normal relationship. Making breakfast together. Openly and honestly caring about each other. No judgments, no serious macho contests. Things with just Cas had been a little stark. Dean balanced them out without even putting any effort into it.

“Can I help?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. Guard the freaking toaster from the Bread Inquisitor over there.”

“The Inquisition did more than burn people alive.”

“Yeah, there was frigging torture. Which is what I think you were doing to those oranges.”

Cas sighed and gave Jack a pleading look. “I thought I’d try making orange juice.”

“Which works better with a juicer,” Jack said. “We don’t have one.”

“I realize that now,” Cas said.

“What were you doing before?”

“Literally squeezing them,” Dean said as he set out the eggs.

Jack chuckled and kissed Cas’s cheek. “I’ll protect him from creating any more disasters.”

“Gonna hold you to that.” Dean went back into the fridge. “Where do you guys hide the meat?”

“Besides inside you?” Jack joked.

Cas snorted.

Dean flushed. “Hilarious. I’m serious. Do you have sausage or not?”

Jack laughed.

“Oh my God. Just frigging answer me.”

“There’s bacon in the bottom drawer.”

“ _Thank you_.” Dean huffed as he went digging.

Jack leaned against the counter and glanced at Cas’s peppers. “I think you’re doing it wrong.” 

“I’m doing it exactly how Dean showed me.” Cas waved at the cut peppers. “Right?”

Dean looked at his work. “Yes. Just like that.”

Cas stuck his tongue out at Jack. It was a quick thing Jack almost missed.

That was new. Maybe things weren’t so bleak as Jack had feared in the middle of the night. Only time could tell, but God did he hope this fantastic feeling would carry on.


	42. I feel disconnected

Castiel could have survived without Dean’s attitude in the kitchen. So he had clumsily destroyed two meals, that didn’t make him completely inept. He was still in pain and this morning he had been concerned about Jack. Jack had _needed_ Dean, but not him. Left clueless, he had thought he’d make breakfast, only to have Dean swoop in and remedy that, too.

Worse, after cutting the peppers and then an onion, Castiel was ordered to sit down somewhere and relax. He grew weary of relaxing every time Jack or Dean thought he’d done too much. He was well aware of his own limitations.

He scowled out at the blank television screen. He wasn’t incompetent or useless and he was a hair’s breadth away from snapping at Dean.

Jack joined him on the couch after Dean shooed him out of the kitchen, too.

“You’re in a better mood,” Castiel said.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Yours is worse.”

Castiel folded his arms.

“What is it?” Jack asked quietly.

In reality, Castiel had failed Jack yet again it seemed. He hadn’t said anything about the PTSD because he wasn’t sure that was Jack’s illness. The addiction had been obvious, but how many other signs had Castiel missed over the last year? Dean had caught on in less than a month and frankly opened the discussion. Maybe Castiel was simply an inferior partner after all.

“Hey,” Jack said. He lightly touched Castiel’s shoulder.

Finally, Castiel dragged his gaze away from the television and to Jack. The other man had a patience to him, which was a surprise after the tensions of the last week. “What’s important is that you’re feeling better.”

Jack frowned. “And you?”

 _An Angel doesn’t share problems with outsiders. An Angel has control on their emotions_. Castiel rubbed at his temple.

Jack took his hand. “You keep doing that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Castiel said quickly.

“Haven’t we had enough of that bullshit around here?” Jack asked.

“I mean, I already decided to see a doctor Monday,” Castiel replied.

Jack pursed his lips. “Maybe you should see Martha this weekend.”

A sharp pain went through Castiel’s mind. “I need to see one of our doctors.”

“You’re sure?”

Castiel nodded.

Jack leaned back and let his hand drift away. Did Castiel just exude some distance-inducing pheromone or was this a problem with Jack?

“Food’s up,” Dean said.

Castiel managed to make his own way over to the table. The plate was full of toast, bacon, potatoes with the vegetables Castiel had cut, and scrambled eggs. He took a bite. Wow, no wonder Dean had tossed him out of the kitchen. This was no fumbling attempt at food. This was someone who knew how to cook.

“So?” Dean asked as he went back to the kitchen.

“Good,” Jack replied. He’d gotten into his plate with gusto.

“Where did you learn?” Castiel asked.

“Here and there,” Dean said. He set the bowl of extra potatoes and the plate of bacon down on the table. “Mostly the Roadhouse. Filled in on a few shifts, so I’m really only good at anything that’s bad for you.”

“I’m sure you’d be able to figure out other things,” Castiel said. “There are things I want to try, but we—”

“—ruin everything,” Jack finished.

“Maybe we can figure them out together,” Dean suggested as he finally brought over glasses for the juice.

“I’d like that,” Castiel said.

Dean hesitated by the third chair at the table. He’d obviously set it up for himself, but after pouring orange juice for himself, he paused.

The game, Castiel remembered. He swallowed down a bite of food before saying, “Go ahead and sit. We haven’t started it again.”

“Are we going to?” Dean asked. “Feels like it got sort of derailed.”

Castiel shot a glance to Jack, who was studying his plate more than anything else. On his other side, Dean was doing much the same, except Dean had a level of energy to him. Open, frank conversation was going to be the best course. “Do you want to?”

Dean shrugged and stabbed at his food.

“That’s not an answer,” Castiel said with an edge of frustration.

Dean glanced at Jack and then back over to Castiel. “Yeah, I do. But what about—”

“I’ll be fine,” Jack said quickly. “It was having a collar on me that bothered me. Besides, that’s what we have safewords for, right?”

“What is yours?” Dean said. “I’ve never heard it.”

“Immortal.”

“Going all day will be harder,” Castiel said. “Don’t be afraid to ask for a break if you need one.”

“Right. No macho crap.” Dean chuckled. “Maybe we should get that on a sign.”

Jack smiled.

“Was there anything you particularly liked last night?” Castiel asked.

Dean’s whole body flushed into a ruddier color. A bright smile broke over him, though he tried to squelch it. He shrugged again, but the gesture was endearing more than anything else. “All of it was pretty good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

That comment kept the blush in Dean’s cheeks for a solid two minutes. He coughed and sputtered, “What about you?”

There had been much to like about the night before. Castiel hadn’t considered the question for himself. He ate more of the potatoes as a stall tactic.

“I liked watching you ride him,” Jack said.

Dean nearly choked on a bit of food, which caused Jack to chuckle as soon as the moment of possible emergency passed.

Castiel waited until he was sure Dean had nothing in his mouth. “I liked how you surrendered to it. You gave yourself over completely.”

“Well, I, uh, tried.”

“I noticed.”

Dean dropped his gaze back down to his plate and that blush stayed around another few minutes.

“After breakfast, we’ll clean up while you shower. Bring out the collar when you’re ready,” Castiel said.

Dean nodded.

Once they were done eating, Dean slipped off to the bathroom. Castiel helped Jack carry the plates over to the sink as best he could. The crutches were getting in his way again. Hopefully he wouldn’t need them for much longer.

Jack was rinsing off the plates and sliding them into the dishwasher without any extra flourishes or commentary. He barely seemed to notice that Castiel was there at all.

 _Am I getting needy?_ Castiel reached out and brushed his hand along Jack’s arm as the other man moved through the space near him. “Hey.”

Jack paused and looked over at him. His eyes were bright, almost sparkling with happiness again. “Hm?”

“You’re all right with continuing? You’re not forcing it?”

“I’m fine,” Jack said. He kissed Castiel’s cheek in a fairly patronizing way before grabbing the juice from the table.

Castiel slumped into a chair at the island.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jack asked. He let the fridge door shut and it rattled bottles around.

The truth would only hurt in this situation, and it was one he had hardly confronted himself. Despite their activities the night before, Castiel had noticed the growing distance between him and his lovers. They were pairing up quite nicely. While he understood why, he couldn’t help a growing worry in his gut. Like this morning—he hadn’t know what to do about Jack’s mood and Dean seemed to have the perfect answer.

 _Perhaps Uriel is right. I found my ‘dog’ another ‘dog.’_ The rude thought came almost in Uriel’s voice instead of his own. Castiel wanted his lovers in his life. He cared about them. _An Angel only relies on other Angels_.

Damn these frequent headaches. He refrained from rubbing his head again. He didn’t want to make Jack worry.

“I feel disconnected,” Castiel admitted. “You two are close.”

The smile fell away from Jack. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel frowned. “For what? Falling in love with him? Why? He obviously cares about you. I’m not ignorant enough to think I have no place here. I just—” He sighed.

“—Feel a little left out?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“I could clear out of the apartment for a while today.”

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel replied.

“You sure? Maybe you just need some alone time together.”

“I want the three of us to find our harmony, that’s all.”

Jack pursed his lips, but before he could answer, his phone rang. After frowning at the phone, he answered. “What’s up, boss?”

Jack took the phone farther into the living room for the illusion of privacy. While Castiel couldn’t hear the speaker on the other end of the phone, he could easily hear everything Jack said.

“Everything’s covered,” Jack told Balthazar. “I’m taking the day off. No, you didn’t make that clear. Why would I be at home if I knew that? Yes. Yes. I’m sorry, sir. I’m on my way.” Jack hung up the phone and let out a sigh. “Looks like you’re getting alone time anyway.”

That hadn’t been his desire. Castiel tried not to freeze up, but he stiffened slightly. He barely knew anything about Dean. All right, he hadn’t known anything about Jack before inviting him into his home, but Dean had shown a preference in Jack. What if they only could only maintain a physical relationship?

Well, at least the day would be fun then, a part of his mind insisted. Dean was pretty to look at and kind. Certainly a day with just the two of them wouldn’t result in an apocalypse.

“I’ll be gone until dinner,” Jack said. “And I won’t let Balthazar drag me out on the town.”

“Good. He would likely try to get you naked,” Castiel replied.

Jack chuckled. “And you’re not worried about me working for him?”

“I didn’t say he’d be successful.” He reached out for Jack’s hand. “That should entirely be your decision.”

Jack lightly took his hand and snorted. “Well, at least we’ve got that established.” He squeezed Castiel’s hand. “You know, you don’t have to play at the game if you don’t want to.”

“I think we’ll be fine to keep it going if that doesn’t upset you.”

“It doesn’t. Just don’t wear each other out. I’m going to spend all day thinking about how I’d rather be here.”

“You should be thinking about security protocols.”

Jack grinned at him. “I can multitask.”

Castiel managed a small smile. “I know.”

Jack leaned in for a brief kiss. “I’ve got to go. I should be able to catch Dean and tell him before I go.”

Castiel nodded.

And then Jack was moving away towards the bedroom.

A whole day with Dean Winchester. This wasn’t what Castiel had planned, but perhaps this was what they needed after all.


	43. We don't have to watch it

The vanilla soap smelled as ridiculous this morning as it had last night. Dean and vanilla. God, he hoped Sammy never heard about this. While it seemed unlikely, Dean could foresee Jack dropping some kind of hint just to torture him. Well, he’d have to guard against that kind of thing if his brother ever happened to meet his lovers. Didn’t seem like it’d happen any time soon, so Dean filed that in the ‘don’t bother’ pile of thoughts.

More out of habit than need, he cut the shower as short as possible. The collar was in the bedroom the last time he had seen it, so Dean wrapped a towel around his waist and headed in there.

Jack was attempting to fashion a tie and failing pretty badly at it. He was all dressed in a suit except for the jacket and tie. With a giant sigh, he undid his failed knot.

Luckily, no one had said the game was on. Dean still had full speaking privileges.

“Let me,” Dean said. He took hold of the tie and went to work. Years of helping out Sammy and having to teach him made this easy. “What’s the suit for?”

“I have to go into work,” Jack said.

Dean finished and smoothed the material down Jack’s chest. “How long are you going to be gone?”

“Until dinner.”

All day without him? Wasn’t this supposed to be a weekend for the three of them? Dean frowned.

Jack tipped Dean’s chin up with a gentle hand. “It’s not what I wanted either.”

But all day? Just him and Cas? “What about the game?”

“Cas is still eager to play. And I’ll be back tonight.”

“Would it be mean if I said being silent all day might be easier?” Dean said.

Jack chuckled and laced his arms around Dean. “You know, he’s sort of feeling left out.”

“He’s like a freaking icicle.” Dean bit at his lower lip. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just, other than a few turn ons, I don’t really know him.”

“So you’ve got a chance to get to know each other today,” Jack said. He lightly kissed Dean’s lips. “Just don’t wear him out in the process.”

Dean snorted. “You’d love a dog-pile cuddle fest and you know it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow as he groped Dean’s ass through the towel. “True, but I’m looking forward to a bit more.”

Dean snuck his lips in for a kiss and Jack kissed back in kind. Just as Dean reached up for Jack’s tie, the other man stepped away. Dean groaned.

“I have to stay presentable.” Jack swept up his coat and put it on.

“Where do you work anyway?”

“Auction house,” Jack replied. With a grin, he walked over to the nightstand and picked up Dean’s collar. “Want help with this?”

Dean smiled and straightened his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

“The rules go back into play when I put this on,” Jack said as he approached.

Dean nodded.

Jack eased the leather around Dean’s neck and latched it into place. Then he dragged Dean closer and kissed him again. His tongue pushed into Dean and they both moaned against each other. Before Dean’s fledgling arousal could grow hard, Jack backed away and winked at him. “Be a good boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean said throatily.

Jack stole another kiss, though this one was quick. He moved away and Dean almost followed along with him. A laugh burst out of Jack and Dean flushed. That hard-on was closer to the edge of existing.

And it didn’t help that Jack looked good in the suit.

While Jack went to leave the penthouse, Dean hung the towel up in the bathroom. Full nudity didn’t feel right, especially with Jack out of the place. Dean slipped into a pair of dark green boxer briefs and hoped Cas wouldn’t mind. His half-hard cock was obvious in the underwear, but wishing it away would take a few more minutes.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Collar on his throat and hickeys on his chest, he looked well and truly marked and owned. _Ours_ , Cas had said last night.

Time to test if that was really true. Dean shook off the nervous energy—or tried to anyway—and left the bathroom.

When Dean came into the living room, Cas rose up off the couch. He got onto his crutches. “My turn for the shower,” he explained.

Dean frowned and glanced back towards the bathroom and then to Cas’s crutches.

“I’ll manage,” Cas said. “Though I intend to leave the door open. If you hear a crash or a shout, come rescue me.”

“Yes, master.”

Cas nodded and went past him.

Inside a minute of being left alone with Cas, Dean was abandoned in the living room. Okay, sure, he knew Cas had a cleanliness kink and hated feeling dirty, but the sudden departure left a knot in Dean’s stomach. What the hell was he supposed to do now? The furniture was off limits and so were the electronics. The stupid beanbag was off in the corner.

Dean shrugged. Being on a beanbag had to be way less embarrassing than some of the other shit he’d done. He collapsed onto it and curled up. The thing wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Now if he could just convince his heart to calm the fuck down. He had no reason to be scared. Obviously he’d made a good enough impression if Cas hadn’t kicked him out. Hell the whole collar thing was Cas’s freaking idea. The other man must want him around.

So why couldn’t he convince his stomach to untwist?

 

*****

 

Castiel felt better after the shower and dressing in clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. The bruises had faded into other ugly colors, but he was healthier than he had been a week ago. Still, he was looking forward to a day on the couch. Hopefully that wouldn’t discourage Dean too much.

He made his way out to the living room. Dean was curled up on the beanbag and for a second, Castiel thought he was asleep. Just as Castiel dropped onto the sofa, Dean peeked up to take a look at him. “You’re welcome over here with me,” Castiel said. “I’d like the company.”

Dean stood and Castiel didn’t attempt to hide the way he raked his eyes over him. Some other day, Castiel would ask about the various scars that marked Dean’s skin, but that wasn’t possible with the silence game. At any rate, Dean had caught him staring and he grinned at Castiel. His mischievousness was different than Jack’s. Jack had a thrilling malevolence in his blue eyes when he went to tease, but Dean had that hidden intelligence streak that came off completely naughty. Castiel adored him.

They found a way to sit together. Castiel had his bad ankle stretched out on the coffee table and Dean was stretched along the length of couch and had his head in Castiel’s lap. As Castiel turned on the television, he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair in slow, gentle strokes.

Nothing interesting was on television. Castiel flipped over to Netflix and automatically scrolled over to the show he’d been marathoning during Jack’s absences. Despite the cute actors, Jack constantly belittled _Dr. Sexy_ and that made watching the show with him unpleasant. Castiel hesitated over the icon. After all, Dean had shared Jack’s preference in movies. Likely he’d hate this program, too. With a sigh, Castiel moved on.

Dean nipped at his hand.

“Hey,” Castiel scolded. “What was that for?”

Dean gave a frustrated sigh and took Castiel’s wrist. Using his new hold, he moved the remote’s cursor back over _Dr. Sexy_.

“We don’t have to watch it,” Castiel said.

Dean frowned a great deal. After a few seconds, he rolled his eyes and snagged the remote from Castiel’s hand. He changed the rating on the program from suggested stars over to five stars.

“You like the show?”

“Yes.”

Castiel grinned and took the remote back. “I’m only in season one.”

Dean relaxed against him and got that mischievous grin back.

“You can’t say very much, so it would be hard to have a full conversation right now.”

“Yes, master.”

“Then some other time. Have you seen season one?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll have to forgive the repeats,” Castiel said as he relaxed against the couch. “I’m hoping to catch up before the fall season starts. Jack absolutely hates this show. He never lets me watch it in peace.” He blinked down at Dean. “I’m rambling. I apologize.”

Dean shrugged.

“Go get the blanket off the chair. I don’t want you to get cold.”

Dean obeyed and then reclaimed his place on the couch. The blanket covered most, but not all of him. That was more Dean’s choice. He left it pooled around his hips.

They were all settled in to watch a ridiculous tv show together. Perhaps, Castiel had worried about nothing. He gently stroked Dean’s hair again as the show got underway. Tomorrow, when the silence game was over, he’d have to see if they had a few more randomly shared interests. For now, he was content to relax with him—and laugh together at the jokes.


	44. You're in on it

This so-called meeting had been a half-hour long nightmare in Balthazar’s opulent office. After giving Zachariah a tour of the auction house and then outlaying the basic security guards of the building, Jack had been told to follow along to Balthazar’s office for a discussion. Zachariah had wanted to know what Jack planned to do for upgrades and when Jack honestly admitted he’d had the job for just a week and had no idea what to do, the older man had begun his tirades about ineffective employees.

 _Deep breaths_ , Jack reminded himself for the third time as Zachariah began another long rant about the inadequacies of the current security plan. Balthazar looked bored, but Jack saw a few micro-expressions that conveyed Balthazar’s annoyance. Up until today’s shift, Jack believed that the auction house was under his boss’s sole control, but Zachariah’s behavior said otherwise. Whoever this guy was, he considered himself equal rank to Balthazar.

And that troubled Jack more than anything else. Had he been so crap with security that he didn’t even know who was signing his checks?

Almost pinging off of Jack’s thoughts, Zachariah whirled around and demanded, “Do you even know how this job opening came to be?”

Jack shot a look at Balthazar. They hadn’t exactly gone through the whole interviewing process. A simple phone call was all it took to land the job. He hadn’t even asked for this job—just any job that Balth thought he was suited for. And now both men were watching him closely for what he’d say next. This was some sort of test. He forced the tiniest grin onto his lips and said, “Just add that onto the list of imperfections, sir. I never asked.”

Balthazar smothered a smile behind his hand and managed to look thoughtful before Zachariah turned around. The older man had deepened to a dark shade of red. Before this, Jack had thought Cas was the most tightly wound person in the universe. What had crawled up this guy’s ass?

Zachariah opened his mouth to say something to Balthazar, but suddenly spun and snapped at Jack, “Will you go do your job or something!”

After getting a nod from Balthazar, Jack left the office. He wished that he’d decided to call in sick or tell Balth he couldn’t make it—anything that would have him back home with Cas and Dean. Right about now, they were probably up to all sorts of fun times. Easy to imagine a naked Dean in a variety of positions. But all that would have to wait until later.

And now that he was cooling down, Jack wondered who Zachariah was. Something about him was off, so Jack went back to his office and hopped onto his laptop. Time to search a few company files. When his clearance failed to be enough, Jack employed a couple hacking algorithms he’d devised back in the day. Balthazar’s private computer fell to easily.

 _Zachariah wants a security plan? How about updating the software for a start. Do we even have a hacking guru besides me?_ Jack broke out into a grin as he rifled through Balthazar’s financial records.

Turned out that the auction house was owned by Balthazar after all, so what was with Zachariah’s attitude? Sifting through more records and emails, Jack dug for an answer. An outgoing email to Cas, telling him about Jack’s new position. If Cas had read the email, he’d have known before Jack mentioned the job. No real problem there—Jack had known that Cas and Balthazar were friends.

The odd piece of information was an email from Uriel. Jack had heard that name from Cas not too long ago. Another Angel who had wanted to snatch away Dean. Was Balthazar friends with this guy too?

No, this email contained nothing but business. It talked about how pleasant the recent corporate outing was, but Jack knew coded language when he saw it. There was another message here. A little tinkering, a few more private files, and Jack had the code. With the new knowledge, he read the message again. If he was understanding correctly, the auction house was a front. Balthazar was an Angel, like Cas.

Jack let out a long breath and stared at the computer. How had he fallen prey to the Angels yet again? First Cas lying and saying that he needed a bodyguard and now Balthazar insisted that he needed a new head of security. What had happened to the last guy who had this post?

While Jack was searching for that answer, Balthazar walked into his office. Jack managed a bright smile for the tired looking man. “So, Zach is a real handful,” he said.

Balthazar slunk into a chair and propped his feet up on Jack’s desk. “You have no idea. You know, I thought you’d be out patrolling.”

“That’s what the rest of the team is for. I got thinking about security enhancements. Our computer systems need a serious upgrades.”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There are some gaping holes.”

Suddenly Balthazar took out a pen and paper. As he scribbled something down, he said, “I think you’re right. Our team has everything under control. If not, that’s what insurance is for. Why don’t you and I knock off early and grab a few drinks?”

The note he held up read, “Office bugged.”

That was a grim sign. Jack frowned at the computer and hoped that there wasn’t a camera in here as well. He double-checked the time. The auction would be over in two hours. “Let’s keep it short. I should probably be back to help close down for the night.”

“And there’s the prospect of profits, so I suppose I should return as well. Shall we?”

“Just keep your hands to yourself this time. I’m a taken man,” Jack joked.

“Hey, I’m your employer now.”

“And that’s going to stop you?”

Balthazar lifted his chin. “Of course. I’d hate to deal with the lawsuit.”

Jack chuckled wryly and motioned for his boss to lead the way out of his office. Hopefully Balthazar would be more forthcoming than Cas. If not, he could always dig through the computer files.

 

***

 

Dean’s phone buzzed on the coffee table. He’d gotten pretty close to falling asleep with his head in Cas’s lap up until that moment. Still, he refused to move right away. Whoever was calling could wait.

Except maybe someone was finally calling about one of his many applications. At the last second, Dean dove for the phone and answered it. “Hello?”

“Finally,” Jo said. “How come you haven’t called?”

Oh he so didn’t want to have this conversation today, and definitely not in front of Cas. He swung off the couch and was heading to the bedroom.

“Dean?” Jo asked.

“I’m here,” Dean replied as he shut the bedroom door. “I’ve been busy.”

“With your boyfriends or a job?”

Dean leaned back against the door. “Looking for a job. Jesus, Jo. Did you just call to harass me?”

“Basically.” There was a muffled sound on the other end of the line.

“Sort of having a nice day here.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up on me.”

“Why not?”

“Because my mom wants to know if you’re making it out to the 4th party.”

“It’s three weeks away,” Dean said.

“Yeah, well, we’re kind of hoping you’re going to bring your boyfriends and if you do that, we gotta plan for the space because Sam’s coming back.”

“Back back or just for the party back?” Dean asked.

Jo went quiet and Dean could almost hear her scowl. “You two still aren’t talking?”

“It’s only been like a week.”

“Far as I know, it’s just for the party. Now, are you coming or not?”

Over half the town would turn out for the July 4th party at the Roadhouse. If Jack could keep his hands to himself, then people wouldn’t jump to assumptions about his sex life. Dean might have a few panic attacks, but he hadn’t missed a 4th party in a long time. “I’ll plan on it. Might change if I find work.”

“All right. What about your boytoys?”

“I’ll ask. No promises.”

“Well, just try to get back to me before next weekend.”

“Yeah, will do.”

“And,” Jo added in a louder voice, “try _calling_ every once in a while. Bobby was starting to worry that you’d been murdered.”

“I’ll give him a call soon.”

“Good.”

“That all?”

“It’d be nice to report more than ‘he’s not dead though still unemployed.’”

“There’s nothing more to tell.”

“What about your sex life? How’s that?” she asked with way too much glee in her voice.

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!”

Dean groaned. “What?”

Jo took a pause before asking, “You’re happy, right? They’re good guys?”

She sounded legitimately worried about him and, for some odd reason, he couldn’t help a small grin. “Yeah. How’re you and your mom?”

“Fine. Short on help but can’t afford anybody. Mom’s got Ash helping with the books so she can cover more time on the floor.”

They chatted back and forth until Jo had to get back to her responsibilities. Dean missed seeing her and the others. He was in such a good mood that he even thought about calling Sam, but decided to put it off. If things went south with Sam, he’d be pissed and that might ruin the quiet day he was having with Cas. Tomorrow was just as good as today when it came to talking to his brother.

Dean went back out and climbed back into his spot on the couch. Cas stroked his hair gently, which was kinda nice and soothing, but Dean couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d promised Jo. Ask his boyfriends, who lived in a swanky place, to go visit his run-down friends’ place? Jack would probably fit right in, but Cas? Then again, he and Cas were getting along just fine at the moment. Wasn’t like Cas was a snob or anything. Sure, he was a little odd, but that wouldn’t upset Jo, Ellen, or Bobby. Maybe it’d all be fine.

Dean nuzzled into Cas’s hand and settled down. Screw the future at the moment. He wanted to go back to their marathon and bask in the contentment.

 

***

The bar managed a chic hole-in-the-wall feeling in the middle of the afternoon. Jack took a seat at the table across from Balthazar. A waitress stopped by and Balthazar ordered drinks before Jack had a chance to decline. He’d promised he wouldn’t go drinking with Balth and here they were, though these were hardly the circumstances he meant that morning.

“You have to be very careful about what you do next,” Balthazar said.

“You mean, don’t dig out the bugs in my office?” Jack asked. He gave a wry grin. “Was sort of my top priority.”

“If you remove them, they’ll wind up putting them back in again. They monitor everything, Jack.”

“By they you mean the Angels.”

“Yes.” Balthazar smiled at the waitress as she dropped off the drinks and not so subtly checked out her ass when she walked away.

Jack held back from opening the discussion any further. Balthazar had wanted the meeting, but Jack would be damned if he let any information slip. Though he was dying to find out more, he waited.

True to form, Balthazar couldn’t help chatting. “All right, so how much has dear Cassie told you?”

“Besides the name Angel and mentioning an apocalypse? Nothing,” Jack said. That answer was mostly the truth.

“He didn’t tell you the nature of the apocalypse?”

“He was sort of ashamed he said anything about it at all.”

Balthazar was watching him closely, but Jack was keeping his guard up. Felt good to flex these spy muscles after so long. A little drinking, a light interrogation, and then Jack would get to go home and keep all this information to himself. He certainly couldn’t tell Cas that he’d snuck out with Balthazar for a little one on one intelligence session, especially if he managed to squeeze details that Cas hid.

“What did you find on the computer?” Balthazar asked.

“That we are seriously lacking protection from hackers.”

“Anything else?”

“What are you trying to hide?” Jack said.

“I can’t share business details with you,” Balthazar replied. He downed most of his drink.

All right, the easy approach wasn’t going to go anywhere. Jack smiled a fraction more, smug in his confidence, and said, “What, like how the Angels own the auction house? That you’re one of them?”

“Well, at least that cat’s out of the bag. Was that from the emails or from Cassie?”

“Cas is tight-lipped,” Jack said.

“Good. Don’t nose in. Stay out of my files from now on.”

Jack frowned.

Balthazar leaned in. “Stay out of Angel business if you value your life and those around you, Jack. My superiors have a fatal way of dealing with snoops.”

So they definitely thought they were beyond the law. Though he’d suspected that, Jack hadn’t had confirmation before. Cas had mentioned that there was danger to him back in Chicago. His life though? These Angels didn’t mess around.

“I had another reason for pulling you away,” Balthazar said.

“Thought you decided against flirting with me,” Jack replied.

All amusement dropped out of Balthazar’s face. “It has to do with young Dean.”

Mirth left Jack as well. “What about him?”

“It’s come to my attention that he’s still job hunting.”

“He’s had some rough luck.”

“Well, unfortunately, Zachariah has gotten it into his head that one of the Angel businesses needs to snatch him up and soon. He tried to push me to employee him, but there isn’t a place for him. That excuse wasn’t even good enough. I had to imply that neither of you would get any work done around the other.”

“Why would you do that?” Jack said.

“Because unlike many of my fellows, I have a heart. I don’t want them to bind up Cassie’s other boy. Poor Dean would be massively out of his depths in this area.”

“And me?”

Balthazar smiled. “Well, you’re pretty to look at. And who’s to say I haven’t saved you from something worse?”

The comment was thrown out there and Jack wound up speculating whether or not he had. He tipped back the contents of his drink and set the empty glass down on the table. “How can I protect Dean from these vultures?”

“Find him employment. Now. And double-check anyone who comes at him with a job offer, especially anything that sounds too good to be true.”

Jack grimaced. He wasn’t sure that the Angels hadn’t involved themselves at every portion of his life. A few contacts still remained—ones that Cas had never met—but they were either out of town or would be just as risky as the Angels. John Hart, for example. If only he had any idea where the Doctor was, though that conversation would be hellish. _Hey, I know I dropped off the radar for almost two years, but can you hook up my new boyfriend with a job so this cabal doesn’t get ahold of him? Thanks. Oh, and how’s life with River? Still exploring jungles or have you switched to deserts now?_

Come to think of it, the Doctor might not have any New York resources besides Amy anyway.

“How is Castiel doing?” Balthazar suddenly asked. “I heard he took a beating last week.”

“Better, though he’s been getting headaches.”

Jack didn’t miss the micro-reflex from Balthazar. Something about his remark had Balth worried, more than Jack anticipated. As if this wasn’t just bad news about a friend’s health, but dire news about something else. Jack leaned in and said quietly, “You’re in on it.”

“In on what?” Balthazar asked in a bad mockery of innocence.

Cards already on the table, Jack couldn’t hold back now. “I don’t know the it. Cas promised to tell me at some point, but refused to give me details. He said he couldn’t risk endangering me.”

“And he’s right not to,” Balthazar said.

“But you’re watching out for him?”

“As best I can. He doesn’t make that easy.”

Jack snorted.

Balthazar finished his drink and sighed heavily. “I suppose we should be getting back. I wish you hadn’t said that we’d appear by the end of the auction. I was hoping to fool around with you more.”

For once, Jack chose not to engage the double entendre. Flirting with Balthazar would encourage his hopes, and Jack didn’t feel like stoking that fire unless he meant it. Up until he learned Balth was an Angel, he was pretty sure he’d ask him out if the relationship with Cas ended. He smiled a little because Balthazar had a mischievous grin, but the smile felt hollow on his lips. One more Angel, one more faked expression, one more lie.

Dean might be able to handle all the subterfuge, but Jack wanted to spare him the pain and frustration. Second-guessing everyone would drive that new-found happiness right out of him and Jack couldn’t bear to watch that happen. Dean deserved his peaceful ignorance. That would end if the Angels got their hands on him.

Jack knew what he’d spend the rest of the afternoon doing: Finding Dean a job before the Angels did.


	45. Do you want...

Castiel almost asked Dean if he wanted to move in after Dean crafted a decent lunch out of the ruined steaks. He and Jack had too many take out meals, but neither of them could cook. Jack had managed to get egg everywhere the last time. However, as the afternoon wore on, he realized that was a selfish need for a tidy home and a satisfying meal. Besides, Dean wanted to know them better before taking that step, and Castiel couldn’t find fault with that measure of caution.

Dean shifted slightly and Castiel glanced down at him. He was watching the television with a marked interest, yet he was attempting to keep that stony ‘okay, whatever’ expression on his face. A strange thought struck Castiel—he had no idea what Dean _wanted_. Of course he had that long ago conversation to fall back on—after Dean had punished himself for tardiness on Castiel’s word—but they’d arranged the Chicago meet up on a series of ‘sounds fine to me’ and ‘sure, why not?’

 _Doesn’t obeying what I say deliver that thrill through you? No, pleasing you does_. The words echoed back like a distant memory instead of a more recent occurrence. Why did everything seem so far away? Never mind, the point was that Dean enjoyed making him happy, but that still wasn’t desire. And what about beyond the bedroom? What about what would make him happy in life? At least, happy until the Angels’ next phase began.

Bright, loud, and occasionally needy—not that Castiel minded on their good days—Jack had a way of telegraphing his desires so loudly that a satellite could detect them. He wanted to matter, wanted a home, wanted to feel loved. Despite their recent issues, he wanted to build a life with Castiel. But Dean?

Castiel idly stroked his fingers along the curve of Dean’s ear. He shouldn’t feel so discouraged. After all, he had gotten to know Jack over the course of a year and he had known Dean for only a few weeks, one of which had been spent in immense pain. Yet, he needed to do _something_.

Dean shifted his hips again and his cheeks took on a slight ruddy tone. His eyes were fixed on the screen, so Castiel finally dragged his attention back to their show for a moment. Ah, _Dr. Sexy_ ’s lone gay intern had wound up going home with the sweet, caring friend of a patient. The conversation had turned into flirting, which led to kissing. And suddenly the sweet, caring man was disappearing down screen to give the intern a blowjob. And Dean was trying his best to only look mildly interested.

Gently, Castiel dragged his fingers down Dean’s neck. Dean shivered lightly underneath the touch. A delightful, intriguing idea sprung to life. On a normal day, he could simply ask Dean what he wanted, but they were still playing the game. Dean’s answers were limited. That wasn’t silence though.

The show had moved on, not showing much of the ensuing sex scene. So, perhaps, the question would be a little too out of the blue since they had watched in quiet companionship for so long, but this weekend was for exploration and learning. And Castiel realized he had much to learn, too. He stroked Dean’s cheek. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

The shocked look on Dean’s face was a treasure. Castiel ran his thumb along Dean’s lip. “Answer me.”

“Uh, yes, master.”

They repositioned on the couch so that they sat facing each other. Dean leaned forward, but Castiel put a hand on his chest to stop him. After all, he had said that he’d do the kissing. Castiel moved in carefully and their kiss was little more than a brush of lips. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Yes, master.” His voice had been quizzical, curious. Dean was trying to figure out what the intent was.

Another brief kiss. “Do you want me to use my tongue this time?”

A happy grin crossed Dean’s lips. “Yes, master.”

So Castiel fell into a pattern of ‘do you want?’ Touch here? Lick there? Nibble on that? Dean’s skin warmed up and he became more and more confident with the yeses, and the nos. Castiel explored his body until he started developing a map of Dean’s preferred zones. The longer they played this way, the better he predicted what would be a yes or no. He still sought out those places where Dean said no. He liked hearing the word, and liked discovering what Dean _didn’t_ enjoy. Boundaries ensured that Dean remained his own person, something Castiel wanted.

And Dean was more than a little aroused by the game. Soon he was stretched out along the couch and Castiel hovered over him. He writhed under some of Castiel’s touches. His cock was a heavy weight trapped in his briefs. Castiel liked watching the way it shifted when Dean moved. “Do you want me to touch it?”

“Please, master,” Dean moaned. Master had taken on a reverent tone and it thrilled Castiel more than he thought it would. He ran his hand over Dean’s cloth-covered cock and was rewarded with a full, eye-closing moan.

“Do you want to take your underwear off?”

“Yes, master.” Dean was practically squirming out of them before finishing the two words.

The underwear wound up carelessly tossed away, but Castiel only had eyes for that hard exposed arousal. “Do you want me to lick it?”

“Yes, master.”

Castiel settled in between Dean’s legs. He gave his eager cock a long, slow, careful lick. Dean gasped at the end of it and a wicked smile came over Castiel. With every bit of huskiness he could summon, he met Dean’s gaze and asked, “Do you want me to suck you?”

Dean moaned, but that wasn’t a direct answer. His pupils had dilated and he was that sort of relaxed Castiel had learned to associate with his submissive mode. The game had let Dean go deep into sub mentality. Normally, Dean had to be much closer to orgasm to reach that. A flare of pride rose up through Castiel. He’d guided Dean into that place and there was so much farther he could take him. But he had to be mindful as well. Dean had opened up and trusted him completely. That made his mental and physical safety Castiel’s responsibility. The submissive high was the hardest part to manage. Too much and Dean could actually suffer. The trick was to keep him grounded in just enough reality.

“Use your words,” Castiel ordered. “Do you want me to suck you?”

“Yes, master,” he panted.

Castiel descended on him and Dean instantly arched. He threaded his hand around to cup the back of Castiel’s head. Through some minimal movements, Dean guided him when he apparently strayed too far from what he liked. After a few minutes, the help ended and Dean moaned, panted, and squirmed under Castiel.

The distinct sound of metal clinking into the lock broke Castiel’s concentration. He pulled off Dean with a loud, wet noise and drifted up to nuzzle at his ear. Dean whimpered in a desperate way and rocked his hips up against Castiel.

“Shhh,” Castiel murmured in his ear. “Jack’s home. Do you want to greet him?”

“Yes, master.”

“Make sure to tell him what you want.”

Dean slipped away just as Jack finished swinging the door open. The tired, exhausted look on Jack’s face disappeared when he saw Dean walking towards him. His eyes went wide in surprise, but a smile happened too. He opened his mouth to speak, and Dean seized the chance to wrap his arms around Jack’s neck and kiss him. Jack dropped the bag of carryout and shuffled them out of the open door. It swung close with a snap, which was some cue to Dean. He broke off the kiss and said, “Fuck me, sir.”

That was all the prompting Jack needed. He renewed the kiss with extra fervor. They worked together to shed Jack’s suit jacket and then Jack was yanking his dress shirt out of his pants. Dean grabbed for his wrist and said, “No, sir.”

“You want me in the clothes?” Jack asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Jack lifted his chin. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You, sir, but please—” Dean cut off his plea as Jack reached around suddenly and groped his bare ass. He shuddered against Jack, pushing his mouth close but not closing the distance between their lips.

“Just as long as you know,” Jack replied. Then he kissed Dean.

This was turning out better than Castiel had hoped. He leaned against the couch and watched as Jack pushed Dean over to the dining room table. They were groping each other and a light litany of ‘yes, sir’ from Dean egged Jack on. Castiel foresaw the one small hitch in Jack’s current plan, leaned over to the coffee table drawer, and took out the bottle of lube they’d stashed there. Jack had insisted on hiding lube all over the penthouse because they’d want it in reach all weekend. After he got Dean onto the dining room table, he reached down, realized Dean wasn’t _completely_ ready for him, and frowned slightly.

“Here,” Castiel said as he tossed him the lube.

Jack took it and regained the quick momentum he had with Dean. He was rough on him, but that only excited Dean more. They ground against each other—Jack using his hand on Dean until he was ready. When Jack slid into him, Dean moaned in euphoric relief. In mere minutes they were reaching completion. Dean spurted first, and it went everywhere. Jack hitched him close. Cut-off panting groans signaled his orgasm. His grip on Dean loosened a fraction and Dean tumbled backwards, smacking into the table.

Castiel was up and hobbling over to him in a flash. That thud had been a little too hard, but Dean was grinning and blissed out. Still, Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s scalp to check for tenderness. In response, a low set of purrs and moans spilled from Dean’s lips.

“He okay?” Jack panted.

“He’s fine,” Castiel said too bluntly.

“I didn’t mean to let him go,” Jack managed to say.

“I know.”

Jack brushed his cheek and cupped the back of his head. “Hey, I didn’t mean it.”

“He’s far gone this time,” Castiel said.

Jack nipped a kiss from him. “So we’ll watch him like we always do.” He took another kiss. “That was amazing.”

“Your timing was perfect.” When Jack attempted to move in for a closer kiss, Castiel put a hand on his chest. “You’re covered in sperm.”

“Wow. I didn’t even notice.”

“Hopefully it comes out.”

“Dry cleaners have managed to get it out of your suits.”

Castiel snorted. “True.” He brushed his fingers over Dean and the other man emitted a small gasp. “We need to stop the game for the weekend. He’ll need to recover.”

“Yeah, agreed. Can I say again, wow? I was having a crappy day and this was exactly what I wanted.”

Castiel smiled. “I’m glad we could make it better.”

“All right, I need to get cleaned up because that look on your face only makes me want to kiss you more.”

“Are you going to shower?”

“Think so.”

“Can you take him?”

“Yeah, but we’ll need to wrap him up after. Last thing we want is shock to set in.”

“Agreed.”

Jack finally glanced at the tv, where _Dr. Sexy_ ran merrily along. “You made him suffer through that all day?”

“There was no suffering,” Castiel said with a defiant clench in his jaw. “He likes it.”

“Damn, I’m outnumbered.”

“Well, don’t worry. It’ll be our thing.”

Jack brightened. “You found a thing.”

“I found quite a few things.”

Jack chuckled and kissed his cheek. “Mmm, going to share?”

“Half the fun is learning for yourself.”

“True.”

Castiel turned his attention back to Dean and drifted his fingers over him a few more times. Dean was gorgeous, but his condition was almost worrisome. Those beautiful green eyes weren’t focusing on much. “Dean.”

There, a spark of recognition. He wasn’t ready to speak apparently, but he had his eyes on Castiel and he smiled when Castiel smiled at him.

“Come on,” Jack said to Dean and gently pulled him from the table. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

Castiel hobbled back to the couch. “And then you can clean up the room.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack teased. He carried Dean away to the bathroom.

Castiel propped his ankle up on the coffee table. _Dr. Sexy_ was running through another episode, so he stopped the program. He’d wait until Dean was ready to watch it with him.


	46. Chapter 46

Dean was warm in a good pleasant way and someone—felt like Cas again—was gently stroking his hair. Where was he at? He didn’t want to open his eyes to find out because he felt too comfortable just as he was. His head had to be on Cas’s lap, that made it more likely that he was on the couch. They’d draped a blanket over him.

“Mmm, no,” Cas murmured.

“You barely considered it,” Jack said. 

“You wanted to hear my opinion.”

“You’ve said no to everything I’ve thrown out there.”

“Because I don’t want to watch anything with explosions.”

Jack sighed loudly. “You could have said that at the beginning.”

“I wanted to see if you could guess why I didn’t agree.”

“I’m exhausted. I think it’s a little unfair to run experiments on my perception tonight.” There was a weird extra bite to their exchange. They must have started fighting. Dean held back a groan. These two did get along, at some point, right?

Though thinking about it, when had Jack gotten home? Dean frowned and tried to playback the afternoon. The last few hours were fuzzy. He’d been on the couch with Cas—and oh yeah. _That_ had happened. Cas asking all those questions and teasing him until Dean thought he’d burst open with need. Then Jack had stepped in at the right minute and no wonder Dean’s ass was the tiniest bit sore. Even thinking on it now, he was getting hard again. He shifted so that his cock wasn’t rubbing against the blanket.

“Looks like someone’s finally waking up,” Jack said.

“Thank God.”

Cas had sounded worried. Concerned, Dean rolled his head up and finally cracked open his eyes to look at Cas. “Huh?”

Cas’s fingers drifted over his cheek and down to his collarbone, which was when Dean realized the collar was gone. “I was afraid you had slipped into a state of shock.”

“But your breathing was fine and your pulse,” Jack said immediately. He must have caught the sudden ‘holy shit’ expression that had crossed Dean’s features. “I told him you were just tired.”

“How do you feel?” Cas asked.

“Thing’s are a little fuzzy. Took a second to remember Jack coming home.” Dean sat up slowly and whoa, he wanted to lie back down already. Felt like he’d been in a marathon. Cas put out a hand and steadied him.

“Do you remember showering?” Cas said.

“I took one this morning,” Dean replied. Cas and Jack shot each other glances and Dean’s throat went dry. “Wait, did I miss something?”

“Nothing happened,” Jack said.

Cas practically growled, “Tell him the truth.”

Whoa. That was a new protective tone. Dean was so caught up in staring at Cas’s fierceness that he almost missed Jack’s explanation. With a slight edge to his voice, Jack said, “You were begging me to screw you in the shower. You were standing on your own again, so I thought you’d recovered.There was some inappropriate touching before I realized you weren’t all there. ”

Dean tried to remember, but came up blank. He’d definitely asked Jack to fuck him at the front door and they’d had sex on the dining room table. And then—and then—no, still a complete blank. Jack was pissed about something and Dean worried that he’d fucked up somehow, only Jack had his gaze on Cas and vice versa. “But nothing actually happened, right?”

“Right,” Jack said.

“Then no harm no foul.”

“There could have been harm,” Cas said.

What was with the edge going on between these two? So what, he’d hopped in the shower with Jack and some groping happened. Sure, it sat a little uncomfortable with Dean—but more because he’d lost track of himself so badly. Sounded like him when he got black-out drunk. Thank God Sammy had been there the last time because otherwise he might’ve wound up in a strangers bed. 

A slow realization dawned on him. They’d been the dominants in this situation and Cas prided himself on being a damn good dom. If good doms didn’t use subs for their pleasure, they probably weren’t supposed to take advantage of a blissed-out submissive either. Jack hadn’t meant to, and only some touching happened. Dean cleared his throat and licked his lip. “It’s, uh, fine.”

Cas said, “Dean, he—”

“—Didn’t mean to,” Jack finished with a firm tone. 

“It’s okay, Cas.”

That look in Cas’s eye said that he did not feel very okay with what happened.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want them to fight about him, not when things were finally settling down. Were they one of those couples that always argued? Wait, they weren’t really a couple anymore, they were a threesome, right? So was there always going to be some fight between them? _Be damned if I put up with that, especially since this one’s easily solved_. “Why don’t we make a new rule then, huh? No shared showers after scenes unless all parties can manage to say—I don’t know—supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack said.

“Agreed.”

“Speaking of rules, are we getting back to the game tonight?” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas replied sharply. When Dean arched a brow at him, Cas softened. “You’re exhausted, Jack is tired as well. You both need to recover.”

“But what about you? You didn’t get to—”

“I enjoyed myself and the show,” Cas said.

Dean felt a blush creeping up from the way Cas was staring at him. “Yeah?”

“You were hot. I can’t think of a better surprise,” Jack said.

“Maybe we’ll have to do that again sometime.”

“I hope so.”

“So what’s the plan for the rest of the night?” Dean asked.

“You need to eat,” Cas replied. 

“I’ll grab something in a second. Sounded like you guys were talking about tossing in a movie.”

“Yes, though now that you’re awake, I imagine I’ll be outvoted.”

Cas almost sounded dismayed by the prospect and Dean found himself wishing he’d woken up about ten minutes later or after they’d decided. They’d enjoyed _Dr. Sexy_ that afternoon, surely Cas wasn’t completely miserable about movie selection. Dean leaned back. “Naw. We chose last time. I abstain—so long as it’s not anything too girly.”

Cas smiled and Jack struggled to think for a moment. He tossed out another few titles as ideas, but Cas wasn’t going for them. Jack asked, “What about _Princess Bride_?”

“Dude, what did I say about girly?” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. 

“It’s not that bad,” Jack replied.

Dean snorted.

“Have you even seen it?” Cas asked.

“Well, uh, no—”

“Then that settles it,” Jack said.

Dean could’ve argued the choice some more, but Cas and Jack finally seemed to agree on something. Besides, he was tired enough he might sleep through the whole thing after he ate. 

*** 

The headache had begun the night before, during the movie. Castiel groped through the stupid plastic bottles to find the painkiller Ephriam had prescribed. He’d have to talk to Raphael about these. They were getting worse, more frequent since Gideon’s death. Perhaps he had taken more damage during the attack then he’d realized. Finally, he found the pills and took one with a handful of water from the sink. He’d created quite a mess searching for this one and that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t let the others worry about him. After all, it was just a series of migraines. 

He hobbled down the hallway without the use of his crutches. The swelling in his ankle was greatly reduced and the pain had lessened, but he still planned to stay off of it as much as possible that day. 

“I’m just saying that I can think of way crueler punishments than making a guy ugly is all,” Dean said.

“Oh really,” Jack replied. He had his hands on Dean’s hips and was staring intently over his shoulder as Dean cooked breakfast. Neither of them had spotted Castiel yet, and he preferred to hide off to the side and watch them for a moment. Jack nipped at Dean’s shoulder. “What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Guy like him, he wanted power, right? And Westley had a freaking pirate ship. I would’ve dropped his ass on an island. Like, one that no one goes near so he could live a long life out in the middle of nowhere.”

“The contest was to the pain.”

“You think loneliness isn’t pain enough?”

“I suppose you have a point, but Humperdinck probably wouldn’t have seen it clearly enough. He’s the kind that responds to physical violence over mental. And Westley was a guy of action, too. Probably didn’t occur to him.”

Dean snorted. “You’re kidding, yeah? Guy was waiting on that girl for ages before she ever saw him as a flesh and blood dude. The loneliness scheme was like the first thing that should’ve popped in his head. He probably just thought about Humperdinck like you did. I mean, the guy did have him tortured. Violence was just the easier threat.”

“And _you_ didn’t want to watch it,” Jack teased.

“Shut up.”

“As you wish.”

Dean spun around, with an apparent reprimand on his lips, but he saw the way Jack was looking at him and softened. Castiel turned away. They were having a moment to themselves and he felt like he was on the border of spying instead of observing. Was he making a mistake being with them? They didn’t need him. Surely Jack was more than capable of protecting Dean if Castiel walked away. Was he being selfish keeping their relationship going?

“Just don’t start doing that rhyming game,” Dean said.

“Or else you’ll find some way to maim?”

Dean groaned and Jack laughed.

That sound. Castiel wasn’t ready to give up on that sound yet. He took a shaky breath. God forgive his selfishness, he wanted them. _Heaven fulfills an Angel’s needs_. Would this headache never end? He rubbed his temple.

“Hey there,” Jack said. He leaned against the end of the wall. “I was coming to get you.”

“Breakfast is ready?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah. You okay? You look terrible.”

“I’m still healing.”

Jack reached out and touched his face. “Doesn’t feel like you have a fever though.”

“Just another headache.”

“I can call Martha—”

“No.”

Jack frowned.

“It’s for her safety, Jack.” 

And there Jack was closing off again. Castiel reached out for him, but Jack reluctantly took his hand. "Dean's getting the food on the table.”

“All right.”

They settled into places around the table and Dean brought the food over. When he caught sight of the two of them, Dean paused. “What is it this time?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said.

“Bullshit. You’re fighting. _Again_.”

“Dean, it’s not something you need to worry—” Jack said.

“Cut the crap,” Dean replied as he plopped down in the seat. “What the hell are you upset about this time?”

This was it. If Castiel said nothing, the bonds forming between them would shatter like his had with Jack. _An Angel can’t rely on non-Angels_. Damn this headache. He winced and Dean scowled in concern, even licking his lip and posturing more. “It’s my health.”

Jack’s eyes went wide. Apparently he hadn’t expected the sudden confession. That only bolstered Castiel’s nerve further and he raised his chin up a few more degrees. “I’ve been having headaches lately. I’ve told Jack that I’m going to contact my doctor tomorrow, but he wants his friend to look at me.”

Dean turned to Jack. “And you’re getting pissed about that because?”

“I don’t trust his doctor,” Jack replied.

“Dude, it’s _his_ doctor. Where do you get a say in who he sees?”

Jack tightly pressed his lips together. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?”

Now Jack went silent. Castiel let him flounder another moment alone—after all, Jack had begun this argument in the first place. Besides that, it seemed that Jack was agreeing in remaining complicit in keeping Dean ignorant about the Angels. But when Jack didn’t say anything and Dean started to glare more furiously, Castiel cleared his throat. “He’s unhappy since the same doctor treated my previous injuries. I wasn’t prescribed enough medication and treatment for my injuries.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. So. Why see the guy again?”

“My insurance fully covers anything he does,” Castiel replied.

Jack dropped his fork at that. “Lousy excuse.”

“Money’s never a lousy anything. Look, Cas has to go where he can go. No point being a dick about it,” Dean said.

That only served to upset Jack further, but he had no argument apparently.

“If my doctor finds no treatment, I’ll consider seeing Martha. Is that acceptable?” Castiel said. 

“Only if you’re not just placating me.”

Of course he was trying to mollify Jack’s feelings. This time, he wouldn’t leave Ephriam until he had a proper diagnosis. There’d never be a reason to see Martha that way, but then he would also be upholding the pledge he’d just made. A win-win for Castiel, for once. “I’m serious. It’s not as if I like this sensation.”

“And you’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do to help?” Dean asked.

Jack shot him a wary don’t-lie-to-him-too look.

“It’s in my head, Dean. But I’ll let you know if there’s anyway to minimize the pain.”

“Okay. Good.”

Castiel picked up his fork. “Please tell me there’s something else we can discuss?”

“Uh, yeah. Actually. What are you guys doing for July 4th?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

Dean grew embarrassed and stammered. “Well, uh, they sort of—by they I mean Ellen and Jo—have a party each year at the Roadhouse and I guess they really want to see you guys there. You don’t have to go. I’m sure there’s something way cooler in the city you could go to. Some fancy party of Amy’s—”

“Amy gets a little wild with her Independence Day parties. I think she likes to make up for the Scots,” Jack said.

“All the same, you don’t have to go to theirs.”

“Do you want us to go?” Castiel asked.

Dean pushed food around on his plate before sighing loudly. “It’d be nice if my family could meet my boyfriends.”

“Then we’ll go,” Castiel replied.

“Good. Would probably be good to show them this whole threesome thing works. What do you call a relationship like ours? Like I can’t say ‘couple.’ Doesn’t fit.”

“I’ve never been in one before.”

“I usually say relationship or partnerships,” Jack said.

“I think I’ll stick with relationship,” Dean said.

They fell into light, easy conversation and Castiel convinced himself once again that this relationship would work after all. 


	47. It's Thursday

After shedding his trench coat at the door, Castiel went straight back to the bathroom. Jack may or may not have tried to say something to him from the kitchen. Castiel wasn’t sure and was in no mood to reply. His head _ached_ yet again and allowing Jack to know that fact would only further stress their relationship. The conversation yesterday had been mildly unpleasant and would have been worse if Dean had not interceded. However, perhaps Jack had a point. Maybe he should ask Martha for help.

 _An Angel only trusts other Angels_.

Castiel closed the bathroom door and locked it. He considered going to the other one—the one that led to the master bedroom—and doing the same. He didn’t want Jack to see him like this. The bruises from last week had paled, though that made him look more wasted and injured. Didn’t help that his complexion had paled so much. Was that the pain or the lack of sun? He should suggest a trip out to the park this upcoming weekend. Maybe even out of the city. Anything to change the routine.

 _Anything to stop this headache_.

He opened up the medicine cabinet and pulled out the yellow bottle. He’d have to tell Raphael that he simply _couldn’t_ wait a few more days to finally see Ephriam. Something had to be done about these headaches _now_. A couple of pills, a few mouthfuls of water and he told himself that he must be feeling better. He screwed the cap back onto the bottle and went to put it back in the cabinet.

 _Wait a second. That can’t be right_.

The bottle’s date was for Wednesday, but today was Monday. Castiel dug his phone out of his pocket. Today was _Thursday_. He couldn’t remember going to the pharmacy, or, even worse, the last few days. Yet the label clearly stated that Ephriam had prescribed the pills yesterday.

The door handle rattled. Then Jack lightly tapped on the door. “Cas?”

Castiel shoved the bottle back into the cabinet and shut it tightly. The headache was teasing him, offering to leave and yet sitting right under the surface. No need to alarm Jack about his gap in memory. These things happened. _During training. Have I been training?_ He was simply overworked. Last week and this week had blended together, that was all.

“Cas?” More urgency in Jack’s voice.

“I’m fine!”

“Did you hear me earlier? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“I’ll join you in a moment.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

Castiel opened the door. Despite the smile Castiel had plastered on, Jack frowned when he saw him. “I need a moment on the balcony, that’s all.”

“Okay. Dinner will hold that long.”

But Jack wasn’t moving out of the way. Castiel shouldered his way past him, except Jack caught his arm. Instantly, Castiel twisted, broke Jack’s grip, and shoved him against the wall. Jack shoved back—or at least he tried to. His hands failed to make contact since Castiel knocked them aside. On instinct, Castiel pressed the advantage, getting his arm across Jack’s chest and forcing his head back. A snarl worked its way through him, but he managed to keep it inaudible.

“What the hell?” Jack panted.

 _I have no idea how we got here._ Neither of them were hurt. On the chance that he could ignore this whole incident, Castiel said, “I thought you liked rough play.”

“When we negotiate it, which hasn’t happened lately,” Jack replied with anger in his tone.

Castiel released him, but Jack didn’t look mollified. “I’m sorry. Your grab surprised me.”

“Next time lead with that instead of lying to me. You get into another fight?”

 _Not that I can recall._ “Training.” That must have been what he was doing all week.

“Guess I’ll have to watch how I touch you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jack shrugged. “Hey, no big deal.”

His body language suggested otherwise. Castiel kept a blank expression—one of the true assets of Angel training—as he nodded and headed back down the hall. The rest of the evening was bound to be awkward. Too bad Dean wasn’t scheduled to drop in that night. _He isn’t, right? And since when do boyfriends ‘schedule?’ Since when have I needed someone to play mediator between myself and Jack._

_Oh, about when he stopped being the broken toy you brought home._

Regardless, Castiel was quickly making other plans for the night. He went out onto the balcony and waited until Jack was preoccupied in the kitchen. Then he dug the plastic baggy out of the potted plant. The cellphone in the bag only had one number programmed into it. He dialed and waited. At least if Jack caught him on the phone now he wouldn’t ask what was going on.

“You’re two days late,” the gruff British voice on the other end said.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Castiel said.

“How wrong?”

“I lost track of days. It’s _Thursday_. I didn’t know it was _Thursday_.”

“Whoa. Calm down. Do your superiors suspect something or not?”

“Considering we’re speaking right now, I’ll assume not.”

“Or this is an elaborate trap.”

Castiel checked over his shoulder. Jack was staring back impatiently. _This is not going well_. “They don’t consider you worth the time. Our whole—our everything depends on that. If you had been compromised, you’d know.”

“Yeah, I would, but not because of you.”

“I need to meet with you.”

“I am not your personal fixer, Castiel.”

“Without me you’ll lose your precious access,” Castiel hissed. “Now are you going to help me, or am I going to make my superiors keenly aware of exactly _what_ has been happening to our computer systems?”

“I do not respond kindly to threats.”

 _And my head’s about to explode. Do I sound like I care?_ “And you know I wouldn’t say something like that if this wasn’t important.”

“All right. I’ll text you the details.”

“Make it tonight.”

“Got it. Demanding little prick. I should just let you twist.”

“Then we’d twist together,” Castiel said coldly.

“Don’t you have spine tonight? Bury the phone again. I’ll put it through on your regular.”

“They watch my regular.”

“Well, it’ll be a hijacked number like before. Or did you forget that?”

Castiel chose not to answer, but he hadn’t forgotten. “Fine.” He ended the call.

Jack was fussing with something in the kitchen again, so Castiel had just enough time to bury the cellphone. He would have to hope that Crowley would be good on his word because he didn’t want to expose their pact. He didn’t know what effect that would have on Jack and Dean. Most likely, the Angels would assume they had some part to play in the scheme. Castiel didn’t want to think about what they would do if they had that impression.

After steadying himself, Castiel walked back into the apartment. Jack glanced over at him, his profile seeming all the more exquisite in spite of the tension coursing through him. “Looks like you’ve got some color back.”

“Just needed some fresh air.”

Jack nodded. He waved a hand at the table. “Managed not to burn anything, but it’s getting cold.”

Castiel took a seat. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

 _Everything will be soon enough_.

***

“Dean?” Amy said. She must’ve said it a few times now ‘cause she sounded more than a little concerned.

Dean let the fridge door slam shut. “You suck at buying groceries.”

“Mmm, this is a known fact, Mr. Winchester. Rory used to tease—” She stopped, letting red hair curtain around her face to shield whatever emotion was playing over her face.

Dean raised an eyebrow. _Who the hell is Rory?_ She hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, though her tone implied that Rory had to be some kind of ex. That would explain hating the loneliness of her huge penthouse. Still, she was obviously avoiding talking about the guy, so Dean picked up the important information. “Well, maybe we should make a list.”

“We? You’ve only been living here a couple weeks, though I hardly saw you last week.”

“I was at Cas and Jack’s.”

“As I suspected.” Amy leaned on the kitchen island. Mischief sparkled in her eyes and Dean regretted saying a damn thing about his boyfriends. “And how are _things_ with them?”

“Aw no, you are not living through me on that.”

“On what?”

“Come on, ‘ _things?’_ ”

Amy pouted. “Is it so bad if I want to know that my new best friend is having amazing sex with his _incredibly_ attractive partners?”

 _There is not enough beer in this place_. Dean folded his arms over his chest. Amy was going for those sympathetic wide eyes that had made her a famous model. _Shit. I can’t stand up to that_. “It’s _fine_.”

“Do I get any details?”

“No.”

Amy straightened up, but she didn’t look offended. “A private man. I can respect that.”

At least she wasn't going to keep pressing him.

“I know, why don’t we go out for dinner?” Amy said.

Dean bit his bottom lip. His limited bank account was draining fast in this city and almost another week had gone by without a job. Oh, he was putting in the legwork. He’d even gotten an interview, but the manager was too creepy and paranoid. Dean couldn’t figure out if the guy was checking him out or pegging him for America’s Most Wanted. But all that meant was he still had nothing to work with. He took in a deep breath, preparing to let Amy down.

“I’ll buy,” Amy offered cheerily. “In fact, why don’t you and I hit the town? My latest chapters are a nightmare and I need a good break.”

More charity. But really, this time Amy was looking for a buddy, and hell, would it be so bad letting a woman pay for everything? After all, letting Cas and jack tie him up had to be way more emasculating. _Oh, fuck that. Done with that kind of thinking. Who cares? I’m a guy. She’s a chick. Bet they’ll all think I’m paying instead of her. It might be sort of fun to screw with everyone._ He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

Amy brightened up even more. “Great. Now, you’re not wearing _that_ , are you?”

Dean stiffened a little. Not like he had chic clothes to tromp around NYC in. What he had on was close to his nicest, but he wasn’t willing to admit that. Instead, he scowled at her. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You’ll feel out of place where I plan on going.”

“Well, you’ll have to rethink.”

Amy edged around the corner. Her expression got thoughtful and Dean clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to be handled into doing something he didn’t want to do. They entered into a silent exchange—Amy frowned slightly, Dean lifted his chin and straightened his stance in an attempt to dare her to say _anything_ , and Amy rolled her eyes. She turned her back on him. “We’re going shopping.”

“The hell we are.”

She gave him that pouty lip look again. “But it’ll make me incredibly happy if I get to dress you.”

“Fuck no.”

“I’ll toss in a new suit. That’ll _have_ to help your job hunt.”

 _Damn it all_. His one suit didn’t fit right anymore. But even _more_ charity? Amy had had a point, sometimes he should just roll when people wanted to be nice to him, but he couldn’t figure out _why_ all of a sudden so many people wanted to help him out. His conscious wasn’t going to let this slide. Worse, that voice in his head that sounded like Dad was on the verge of acting up again. “Well, I’m doing the cooking around here then. And grocery shopping.”

“Only if you let me pay for the bulk of groceries. I’m not having quality sacrificed because you’re being thrifty and splitting the bill.”

“This is freaking New York. I’m sure it’s just a matter of where I go, not what I pick up.”

“All right, just don’t limit because of budget.”

“Fine. We’ve got a deal.”

Amy looped her arm into Dean’s and dragged him towards the front door. “Yes! I promise, this’ll be fun.”

_Uh huh, sure. Out partying with THE Amy Pond. I’m sure I won’t regret this at all._

But honestly? He couldn’t help it. He was smiling.


	48. So which way's this bar?

The lights in the club spun and swirled in beat to the music. Music was so loud it throbbed through Dean, felt instead of heard. He was sure he’d lost his hearing in the first ten minutes. Even the weird-ass semi-circle couch was vibrating. At first he couldn’t take the techno-dj crap, but after four shots, it might’ve grown on him. One of Amy’s friends—uh, Mel? River? He couldn’t keep track in this noise—was bringing another round over to their ‘booth.’ Amy had slid over and taken River’s seat next to Dean, but River just stepped up and over the low table and proceeded to force her way between them. Amy huffed as she scooted back over.

"You get to live with the handsome devil! I just want a good look,” River said as she passed out the shots. Somehow she hadn’t spilled a drop, which was good because even Dean’s jeans were too damn expensive.

 “He is rather gorgeous!” Balthazar agreed. River and Balth clinked their shots and threw them back.

Dean rolled his eyes and downed his. People seemed to be going on all night about how hot he was. First the girl at the clothing store, then the guy at the suit place, the waiter at dinner who couldn’t stop staring at him, Amy agreeing with all of them, and now her damn friends. He set the shot glass among its empty brothers. “Naw, you should see Jack and Cas.”

“Oh I have. Well done.” River winked at him.

 _And that’s just a little creepy. Stop undressing me with your eyes_. Dean stood up, fussing with the stupid sports blazer—Amy had insisted but damn did he look like a douchebag. “I’m going to get a real drink.”

“Thatta boy!” Amy said.

Dean chose River’s table route instead of crawling past anyone. Perverted as they all were, he’d probably get his butt pinched if he went that way. Balthazar and River still whistled and cheered when he went. _Did they show up wasted?_ _I have got to get some freaking friends of my own out here._

He worked his way through the dance floor, ignoring the four people who tried to grind on him anyway, and made his way to the bar. More people pressed together in a throng. Girls in short skirts, guys in similar douchebag chic to what Dean was wearing. Lots of pretty people to look at and not a lot of space to get a freaking drink. Only bit of wiggle room he saw was next to a tall, dark haired, blue-eyed man in a suit. Dean couldn’t decide if the guy was pretentious or cool. Nowhere else to go, Dean pushed up next to the guy and snatched that couple of spare inches of bar. A woman leaving the bar jostled him into the guy hard enough that they wound up face to face. Dean tried to balance himself out, but they were still chest to chest. “Sorry!”

“It’s a mess in here,” the man replied. Wasn’t an American accent. Sounded kind of nice.

 _I have two—TWO—hot boyfriends. Don’t need to get turned on by random dude. Be a good boy and don’t get horny_. Right, like his downstairs plumbing ever listened that well. Definite stirrings were happening. He blamed the tightness of his jeans. Yeah, sure, his ass looked great, but too easy to get friction on his cock. Like now. Dean managed to turn and claim enough bar to lean against it instead of the guy. _You go back with a boner and they’re bound to do something. Hear that? Knock it off._

‘Course that wasn’t working. He was only getting harder. Dean tried to flag down a bartender, but one buzzed right past him. “Come on!”

 “I’ve been trying for ten minutes.”

“How the hell is River getting all these damn shots then?”

“Is River a woman?”

“Yeah.”

“That would be how. They've been showing a preference.” The stranger pointed at one of the bartenders.

Dean watched and, sure enough, the guy was filling the women’s drink orders at a two-to-one ration of the men’s. “Son of a bitch. How’re we supposed to compete with that?”

“I’ve been debating that myself. Especially since anything decent is outrageously priced.”

“Fuck I hate trendy shit.”

The man chuckled. “Why are you here?”

“A friend brought me.” Dean tried and failed again to get attention from the bartender. Funny, he hadn’t had a problem getting anyone else’s tonight. “Screw this. I’ll get Amy to help.”

He leaned back and waved a hand at the table, but with the crowd and the noise, Amy couldn’t see him. Even if he reached way up, she wasn’t going to notice. He huffed. “Fuck. You know, give me a quiet bar and a cold beer anytime and I’m a happy man. Fucking hate this place.”

The man shrugged. “Then let’s go.”

“Uh, I sort of promised to hang with Amy tonight.”

“Certainly she’d understand if you’re miserable.”

 _And it’s not like she doesn’t have friends here._ Dean wiped at his lip as he thought. He did really hate this joint. And if this guy was trying to pull something, Dean wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t defend himself. If it came down to a fight, he could take him.

“I spotted this place two blocks over. Looked perfect.”

“Why aren’t you there?”

“Because it didn’t look like a place to meet anyone.”

“Sorry, I’m in a relationship. And I’m not looking to hook up.”

"I’m still up for a quiet drink, if that’s all right with you.”

The DJ started a new loud blend of songs. Dean could feel his teeth trying to walk out of his head. “All right. Let me tell her. Meet you outside.”

Dean worked his way back to the booth and plopped down next to Amy. “Met this guy at the bar. Wants to hit up this other place that’s quieter.”

“Is there dancing?” Amy asked.

“Doubt it.”

Amy pouted. “I really want to get out on the floor.”

“Well, stay here. I’ll see you back at our place.”

“You should stay!”

“I’m getting a headache.”

Amy gave an overdramatic sigh. “All right. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

“I’ll see you later.” Dean headed for the door before River or Balthazar could figure out what was going on. Didn’t want to think about what reaction the two of them would have.

Getting out into the night air was a relief, even if it was hot out here. Dean stepped a little ways from the door. Sounds seemed muted, far too quiet. His hearing probably hadn’t readjusted yet.

“Hello.”

Dean jumped. The guy from the bar had snuck up on him and had a smug smirk. “Hey there. Just looking for you. All good to go. By the way, I’m Dean Winchester.” He offered out his hand.

“Trey MacDougal.”

Dean laughed in spite of himself. “Seriously?”

Trey frowned. “Yes. Why?”

“Well, ah, nothing. It’s just—isn’t that a guy from _Sex and the City_?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Sorry, man, didn't mean to laugh like that. Recently moved to New York. A lot of strange stuff’s been happening.” Dean glanced up the street. “So, which way’s this bar?”

 

*************

Crowley had waited hours to send a location. Typically, they met in some smokey drinking den that Crowley had managed to successfully hid from the Angels and the Demons, but this time he’d given an address to a darkened building. It wasn’t abandoned, but it was closed for the evening. The only thing with lights on was a bar across the street, but Crowley had explicitly given _this_ address. Castiel frowned up the short set of steps. What was significant about this building?

Footsteps on sidewalk. Castiel knew the size of the step, the gait, and showing that he wasn’t scared of Crowley helped keep things balanced between them. He kept his gaze on the darkened glass window. There was some sort of design there.

“See you made it on time,” Crowley said.

Castiel finally turned towards him and acknowledged his presence. “Street meetings are unwise.”

“Not when I own the neighborhood,” Crowley replied sharply. His black suit was as sharp and professional as ever, even in the middle of the night. Castiel felt sort of crumpled up and disorganized in comparison. “So you’ve been having the headaches.”

“Yes.”

“You should’ve come to me _before_ you lost us three days.”

“I—” _An Angel can only trust other Angels_. Castiel put a hand to his temple.

Crowley squinted at him. “They got you good.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Course you do. We both know what their ‘training’ entails.”

“I’ve been beyond that element of training for years.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” Crowley snatched Castiel’s wrist and shoved Castiel’s sleeve up to expose the bruises around his wrist.

 _How have I missed those?_ Castiel stared quietly at them, trying to think back. These bruises were fresher than the ones from his attack. As if they’d been made in the last few days. But Angels were supposed to be beyond that level of training once they left Heaven’s bunker. Perhaps one wrist was a fluke. He checked the other. The same markings. He’d been held down by restraints and he didn’t remember.

 _Trust Heaven, Castiel_. Naomi’s voice.

“You could have exposed the whole bleeding plan, you moron,” Crowley hissed. “Next time you get a headache, you call me first. Got it?”

Castiel nodded, too much in shock to say anything else.

“Now that that’s settled, I’ve got another bone to pick with you.”

“What?”

Crowley pointed across the street.

Castiel hadn’t paid attention to the little bar across the way. It was brightly lit, spilling light across the pavement, and it had a sort of old world charm to it. Still, it was unremarkable, except—

 _Dean!_ Dean was sitting at a table with a man in a suit. Happy, oblivious, laughing in a relaxed, whole body way. Castiel took an involuntary step towards the street and Crowley put a hand on his chest to stop him. “Now, now, your boy’s fine.”

“How do you know about him?”

“Our little information gathering, how else? Besides, you put him in an apartment with an international model and he’s been spreading his name everywhere looking for a job. A bigger question is why don’t Lilith and her ilk know about him, hm?”

“You’re keeping him from them,” Castiel said slowly.

“That’s right. Lilith, she’d love to get her hands into your soft boy. An Angel like you at her beck and call? It’d up her game considerably.”

Castiel glared at Crowley. “So this is you threatening me instead.”

“Don’t see it that way, Castiel. I’m protecting my investment in you by protecting your investment in him. Sloppy work bringing a clueless ape to the party, but he seems to have a certain appeal.”

Something seemed familiar about the man at the table. Like Castiel had seen a photograph, somewhere, a long time ago. If his head didn’t hurt so much, he could have tried accessing his memory more. Only he was doing good to remain focused. “If you lay a hand on him—”

“Relax. Besides, it’s not like I do my own dirty work. That’s what I have you and the gentleman in there for.”

Castiel shot another murderous glare Crowley’s way.

Crowley, never fazed by Castiel’s attitude, rolled his eyes and plucked a pill bottle out of his pocket. “Here. These will actually kill the pain in your head.”

“And what do I have to do for them?”

“I told you, you’re no good to me if you’re deficient. I need you sharp. You ride out these little headaches and we can get back on the _plan_. I assume, of course, you still want to stop this blasted Armageddon?”

Castiel took the pills.

“Good boy. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Crowley took a few steps down the street, but then paused and turned back around. “Oh, and for everyone’s sake, keep a tighter leash on your pet. Or I’ll be forced to. Got it?”

Castiel refused to say anything, so Crowley sauntered away. He clutched his hand around the pill bottle. _I have to protect Dean better. And I need to find out who that other man is._


	49. Chapter 49

Dean tapped his foot against the penthouse door. His hands were full of grocery sacks. Hadn’t been his brightest move paying for all this crap, but he’d wanted to surprise Cas and Jack with a decent dinner. He’d gone a little overboard. There was enough in here for two dinners and probably breakfast if he got inventive. Hopefully he wasn’t overstepping any bounds here. They hadn’t invited him over and if they didn’t want him around, he was going to feel like a complete moron. Not that standing out here in the hall was doing his nerves any good.

Cas opened the door and a small smile blossomed on his lips. Immediately, Dean smiled back in return. _Good. At least it’s time not wasted_. Dean pushed into the penthouse, barely nudging Cas as he came in, and headed for the kitchen. “I brought dinner. Well, the stuff to make it anyway. I’m not the world’s greatest cook, but there’s this mean burger recipe I’ve been wanting to try out. Amy almost cried about the calorie count, so I figured you guys would be better guinea pigs.”

“I’ll text Jack and tell him not to bother with takeout.”

“Shit, was he already getting it?”

“He won’t leave work for another forty minutes. Balthazar is keeping him late tonight.”

“Oh. Well. Good thing I got here now.” Dean put the groceries away. He saw a couple of other things in the fridge he’d be able to use, but his boyfriends had less in their fridge than Amy. _What is it about city folks not being able to feed themselves?_

Cas was looking a lot better. The bruises on his face were practically gone and he didn’t have that pale pinched look from the other morning when his headaches had been bad. He was also moving around without the crutches, though he tended to favor his good ankle. And his blue eyes were sparkling as he smirked at Dean. “I take it you want to scene tonight?”

Dean’s fingers went to his neck. He’d put on the collar and practically forgotten about it. It was comfortable and sort of soothing in a way he wasn’t used to yet. Belonging to somebody, to the two of them, all still a good kind of new. His face was heating up something fierce though, especially now that Cas’s gaze was lingering on his collar. “I, uh, really liked last weekend.”

“Me too.”

“Good.” _That was lame_. Dean bought himself a couple second by finishing with the groceries. “I was reading some stuff on service submission. Thought we could try some of that.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“Well, I don’t want to go overboard on it.” Dean shrugged and turned to face Cas. Cas, for his part, was looking pretty peaceful and contemplative. “Like, I’m not cleaning the bathrooms or doing the laundry.” _That doesn’t sound that bad really._ “Okay, I’m not doing that kind of stuff without some big rewards. But you know, cooking dinner, cleaning up afterwards, getting you guys drinks tonight.”

“Chores, essentially.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“And you think you’ll derive pleasure from this kind of play. I’m curious as to why.”

Dean shrugged, keeping his arms tight across his chest and leaning against the counter.

“I won’t consent unless I have an idea of what you’re thinking, Dean.”

Dean sighed loudly. He couldn’t quite meet Cas’s gaze. _Ah, hell. I’ve confessed worse to them._ Rolling his eyes at himself, Dean said, “I just feel so damn useless. I’ve been job hunting for weeks now and no sign of anything working out. I went grocery shopping for Amy early this morning and got a kick out of it. Couldn’t help thinking it’d be a lot of fun doing some of that stuff for you two. Not running errands around town. I’m definitely not picking up any dry cleaning. But, you know, stuff.”

“Tasks where you can see a goal and receive appreciation,” Cas said.

“God, it sounds kind of dumb when you say it out loud.”

“It’s not dumb. You have no idea how happy I am that you’re discussing something you want to try.”

“Yeah?”

Cas nodded.

 _Well, at least I’m not a total moron._ Dean cleared his throat and relaxed. “So we can try it?”

“Let me call Jack and suggest it to him. Either way, if you want to scene tonight, I’d like it if you—”

“Showered,” Dean said. “Got it.” He headed towards the bathroom, trying to tell that swelling excitement in his chest to knock it off. Jack hadn’t agreed yet. And maybe he wouldn’t have fun after all. Whole experience could massively suck. Dean shucked off his clothes in the bathroom and flipped on the water. _You know what? At least you’re getting burgers for dinner. Tonight will be awesome no matter what_.

_Just so long as those two don’t break out in another fight._

*** 

Damn firewall wasn’t as strong as he’d thought it be. Jack furiously typed a few more lines of code, patched in another few subroutines, and then looked up at his underling and said, “Give it another shot.”

It took the underling another few minutes to hack in this time, but he still got to the databases. Jack dismissed him and went over the data he’d collected. The Angels really hadn’t looked out for their internet security, especially in terms of Balthazar’s auction house. The firewall wouldn’t be so hard to set up, but there was something tripping his codes every five minutes and his own sleeper virus was still pinging on the radar. He needed to block the one entry while securing his back door into the Angels’ files.

His phone buzzed along in his pocket. Jack didn’t even glance at it as he answered. “What?”

“Never mind,” Cas said.

 _Wait, Cas is calling?_ “Hold on. I’m sorry. Frustrated at work. Didn’t you get my text?”

“I did. Did you get mine? Dean wants to make dinner.”

“Better than my plan.” Jack pushed his keyboard away. He was already staying later than usual today, but he wasn’t going to get this done today. He’d have to work on it at home over the weekend.

“He also wants to explore a new avenue of play this weekend.”

 _This should be good_. A grin spread on his lips. “Oh?”

“He’s interested in service submission.”

“Thought he wasn’t into dirty talk. Didn't think he'd be into that kind of kink,” Jack said.

“You and he have different definitions. He means doing some light chores around the penthouse. Cooking, cleaning.”

 _“Butler, I could be your butler!”_ Jack forced the echoed voice out of his head, but couldn’t stop the harshness in his voice. “What the hell does he want to do that for?”

“He’s been having a hard time lately with employment. He believes he’ll get some fulfillment out of being useful, of helping,” Cas said sharply. “I didn’t think you’d have such a problem with it, considering how much you complain about doing laundry.”

“I don’t have a problem doing—”

“It’s been three weeks since you’ve done yours.”

“I’ve been busy!”

“Well, Dean might take care of it, if you let him. Though he did mention wanting rewards for some tasks.”

“And he’s going to get off on this chore stuff?” Jack asked.

“I don’t think it’s a sexual want, it’s just simple happiness for appreciated work.”

 _Ianto used to be the same way._ Jack spun slowly in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. _Been years. I need to move on. And Dean isn’t anything like Ianto. Besides, what was the last thing Dean really asked for? Okay, other than the mind-blowing sex. You’re in love with the guy, you can try exploring what makes him happy. Just because it’s something Ianto liked doesn’t mean he’s going to do it the same way._ He sighed loudly. “Yeah, okay. Any chance you can get him into a sexy French maid outfit?”

“I’m not sure Dean would enjoy the challenge of heels.”

“We should find out sometime soon.”

“He might consent to wearing some of your old dress clothes.”

 _No suits. Not for this._ Jack cleared his throat. “Slacks, maybe. See if he’ll go shirtless. If not have him stick to his clothes. Assuming he wants to be clothed.”

“Jack, are you all right? You sound odd.”

 _And here we go back to hiding things._ “I’m tired.”

“We don’t have to do this.”

“I want to. This is the first time Dean’s asked for anything.”

“Correct.”

“So obviously it’s important to him. It’s just been a long week. This whole doing chores for the weekend might be a bigger blessing than I realized.”

“He hasn’t agreed to the weekend yet.”

“Wanna bet he just wakes up and does them in the morning?”

“I’m thinking you have insider knowledge on this wager,” Cas said.

Jack laughed. There was a moment of silence that carried on for strangely too long. Jack got the sense that Cas was just listening to him. _Been a long time since he did that._ “Can I make a request? If he’s going to sub, can he use the titles again? That was hot.”

“I’ll ask him to consider it. It would surprise me if he didn’t.”

“All right. I should get going. I have some more to finish up before I can leave.”

“Text me before you leave. I have a feeling Dean wants to have dinner ready by the time you get home.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home.” Jack hung up the phone before the conversation could get awkward again. He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

 _Dean wants to do chores?_ Somehow he shouldn’t be shocked. After all, he’d cleaned up Amy’s place after the party. And Jack knew the need to feel useful. _So why is this putting me on edge._ Because, because he couldn’t help the flashbacks to the good times with Ianto. _Seriously, it’s been years. Focus on the present._ Jack let out a ragged sigh. If it got too much, he could always call it off. _And then you’d have to explain. Maybe I’ll just find a way to power through this. And Cas keeps trying. Didn’t even mention anything he wanted out of tonight. How long am I going to keep him in the doghouse?_

All right. One more attempt at making this firewall work and then he’d go home.

***

Jack had texted a few minutes ago and Dean had gotten right to work. Castiel sat at the island and watched. Dean had chosen to wear the slacks and collar. As he worked, all those wonderful muscles in his back and chest were on display as he prepared potatoes and hamburger meat and fried onions.

 _Jack will be home soon. You don’t want to arouse his suspicions._ Castiel had been trying to figure out how to bring up what he’d seen the night before, but he didn’t want to seem like he was prying. “How was your week?” _There. That’s something boyfriends say._

“Eh, not great. Not that bad,” Dean said.

That didn’t lead anywhere close to the mysterious man. “Getting to know New York?”

“Yeah. Amy insisted on going out last night. We went to some insane club.”

“I take it you’re not fond of the club scene.”

“I want to be able to hear someone when they’re talking to me, you know? And not pay a god-awful amount for a beer.”

So much for his interrogation skills. Castiel folded his arms on top of the counter. Jack could probably get Dean to spill everything in seconds. _Stop comparing yourself to him_. Castiel cleared his throat. “Uh, have you made any friends?”

“Besides you guys and Amy?” Dean shrugged. “Amy introduced me to her friend River who I think would eat me alive if allowed. And I met this guy. Grabbed a couple beers together. Supposed to do it again next week.”

 _Yes._ Just as Castiel opened his mouth to ask more about this ‘guy,’ the door to the penthouse swung open. Dean had already been relaxed and smiling, but his smile got even wider seeing Jack come through the door. Dean went to kiss him and the moment was sweet, even making Jack smile. After nipping at Dean’s ear, Jack asked, “What’re you cooking?”

“Burgers, chips. Which I can finally put on.” Dean extracted himself from Jack and went back to the kitchen.

Castiel dropped his eyes to the countertop. He knew he was feeling ridiculous. This—it wasn’t jealousy. A lonely ache. _Two boyfriends and I’m lonely?_ This was stupid. Everything that happened under this roof was with his own permission.

Jack leaned in from behind and kissed his cheek. “Hey. You okay?”

“Thinking.”

“Been doing a lot of that lately.”

“So have you.”

Jack brushed his hand through Castiel’s hair, settling it onto his shoulder. “Dean smells clean. Do I have time to wash off the city grime?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean purred.

Jack kissed Cas’s cheek again and walked away. Then he paused, turned back, and took Cas’s tie in his hand. With a light tug and a soft smirk, he said, “Wanna join me?”

“How long do we have?” Castiel asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Dean replied.

“Not a lot of time,” Jack teased. 

Castiel rose and followed Jack. They hadn’t touched like this in so long. Soft, easy. Wanting. Castiel wasn’t about to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! An early update. I plan on having one on the 30th again. We'll see what my schedule allows for after that (in other words, whether we'll be weekly or every-other week.)


	50. You mean that?

Jack’s pulse raced. He hadn’t really thought this through—wasn’t that more like his normal mindset?—but Cas had had such a lonely, forlorn look on his face and Jack just felt the need to get rid of that. When he grabbed Cas’s tie and the man looked up at him with those heartbreaking blue eyes, Jack’s resolve stuck firmly in place. _How’d we drift so far apart?_

Well, he knew the answer and if he thought about it now, he’d only ruin this moment. He dragged Cas behind him, shooting smug grins at him over his shoulder and liking the way that Cas seemed completely wordless for once. They went into the bathroom and Jack pushed Cas up against the door. He swept in close for a quick kiss, his hands rising to either side of Cas’s face. Carefully, he held him in place and kissed him tenderly. Cas clutched at his arms, like a desperate man needing air. Jack pulled away ever so slightly.

 _God, he’s beautiful_. Bewildered and wide-eyed, Cas was striking, even with rough stubble coating his cheeks and jaw. The fading bruises only seemed to make him look more tired than the natural bags under his eyes typically did. Jack brushed his fingers along Cas’s jaw. _When did I stop being in awe of him?_

 _About the time you believed he was lying too much_. Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to forgive Cas more than anything, but some of those old pains were still sticking to him. _Don’t back out on this now. He needs this. You need this. Dean needs the stability._ Jack let out a long sigh.

“I can go,” Cas said as his hands slid away from Jack’s shoulders.

“No,” Jack said sternly. He laced his fingers into Cas’s tie and drew the knot down slowly. “Stay.”

“Don’t force yourself.” And there was that edge of sadness again. The same look came on Cas’s face when he was watching Jack and Dean for too long. Jack couldn’t help hearing Cas’s confession. _“I feel disconnected.”_

“You know the frustrating thing when we fight?” Jack unbuttoned Cas’s shirt.

“What?”

“You’re still really hot.” Jack nipped at Cas’s lips even as he smirked. Then he dipped in for a long, lazy kiss.

Cas broke the contact this time by putting his hand lightly on Jack’s chest. “If we don’t hurry this up, we’ll miss Dean’s burgers.”

“And whatever else he was working on was smelling pretty good when I walked in.” Jack gave Cas enough room and they stripped down.

They were in the shower before Jack noticed the bruises around Cas’s wrists. These were fresher than the others. _Can’t be more than a couple days old._ He didn’t show signs of any other injuries. The wounds had to come from the ‘Angels.’ That anger Jack had worked so hard to squash was back. Someone had hurt his lover, again, and he had the sneaky voice in the back of his head saying that Cas had let this happen. He grabbed Cas’s hand and raised it up so they could both see. His voice was hard, flat. “What happened?”

Cas dipped his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jack whispered.

A pained look crossed Cas’s features and he closed his eyes tight.

 _So much for a happy evening_. Jack reached back to turn off the water.

“Training,” Cas whispered.

Jack froze in place and then sharply turned back to look at Cas.

Cas had opened his eyes again. He leaned back against the shower wall and the expression on his face made him seem so ancient. “It’s a complicated process.”

“Getting strapped down doesn’t seem all that complicated,” Jack said. The anger was a low growl in his voice, but he wasn’t upset with Cas. Whoever did this to him needed to be destroyed.

“It’s experimental, and it works.” Cas took his hand from Jack’s.

“The headaches?”

“An after effect.”

“You need to see Martha.”

“I—” Cas closed his eyes again and rubbed his fingers against his temple. He bit his lip, shook his head, and let out a long breath. “I’m working through the issue with someone else.”

“You can’t trust the Angels!”

“I’m aware. My help isn’t one of them. I won’t risk Martha’s safety.”

The dismissive tone in Cas’s voice enflamed that already angry chord of Jack’s thoughts. He clenched his jaw. He should just leave the shower. A smart man would call this quits. Sort out this struggling mess later. But that would leave Dean with Cas and this nightmare might repeat itself instead of repairing Cas’s behavior. So he went for the low blow instead. “You know your Angel buddies want Dean in their employment? They are _that_ close to fucking up his life because of you.”

Cas’s eyes went wide in shock. “No. I—How do _you_ know that?”

“Balthazar.”

“We can’t let them control him.”

“At least we can agree on that.” And Cas’s reaction was an honest relief from the fears that had been cooking in his brain over the last week. After all, Cas had lied to him and invented a job just to keep tabs on him. While Jack hadn’t had any real reason, he’d feared that Cas had done so under orders. Wanting to protect Dean this way sort of proved that Cas’s motives had been personal, not professional. Twisted, overbearing, and wrong, but it came from his heart. _I’ve done worse_. Jack lightly ran his hand over Cas’s cheek and Cas leaned into him, suddenly burying his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. Reflexively, Jack wrapped an arm around him.

“We have to do something,” Cas said.

“Hey, I’ve been looking all week, but I don’t have any contacts.”

“Nor do I, other than the Angels.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to keep him away from the bad offers,” Jack said.

“If the Angels want him—”

Jack ran his hand down Cas’s back. “They won’t get him.”

Cas drew back and frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Want to try that again without lying to me?”

Cas hesitated.

 _This is getting real old_. Jack could feel a hard frown coming over him and didn’t feel the need to stop it.

“The ‘help’ I spoke of before. He mentioned something. It wouldn’t be beyond him to interfere with Dean’s life.”

“You’re saying, what? That someone’s already keeping Dean out of the Angels clutches?”

“And the demons.”

“What does he get out of it?”

“He says that protecting my interests protects his, though I imagine he’ll eventually extract a price.”

“Who is this guy?” Jack asked.

“I can’t—”

“Tell me,” Jack finished. He couldn’t help the sharp edge in his voice. “We’re never going to be whole, are we?”

“I want to be honest with you.”

Jack couldn’t help the sad laugh that came out of him and immediately an emotional gulf opened between them. A few inches felt like a canyon between them. The hurt that played out on Cas’s face jabbed into that part of him that cared, but he hardened instead of apologizing. He turned, running his face under the water.

“It always has to be _your_ way.”

The accusation was low, practically a growl. Jack spun back towards Cas. “I didn’t—”

“You’ve been pushing and pushing and unless I tell you everything on your terms, you’re never going to be happy with me,” Cas continued. His eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed with color. Jack stuck to his previous belief, Cas was hot when he was pissed. “You have known for a long time how dangerous my work is and that I can’t tell you specifics. I am trying to do better, but our relationship will suffer if you dictate how I am supposed to behave.”

“You promised to tell me,” Jack said.

“And when will you stop throwing that in my face? You sound like a child.”

“And you—” Jack sighed and closed his eyes. He willed himself to calm down, managing it only in a small degree. “This isn’t working.”

The weight of the words—of that truth they’d been avoiding—struck into Jack. No wonder Cas had been distant and so heartbroken lately. He must have felt this. Jack couldn’t take back the words, but his chest hurt. He brought his hands back up to Cas’s face only to have the other man knock him away.

“After dinner, I’ll go,” Cas said. “I’ll make up some excuse so the two of you can be alone. We can sort everything else out later.”

 _This is it?_ All they’d shared. The laughing, the way Cas had ben the first person to make him feel safe, the first one to care about him—broken or not, the first person who made him feel like he might be worth saving, and now it was washing down the drain. Cas wanted him to feel like an equal, but kept him in the dark. _Have I been unreasonable? Have I been pushing too much?_ None of that mattered, Cas was throwing in the towel. Jack couldn’t blame him. Cas had been trying and all Jack had done was continue his demands.

 _But what would life be like without him?_ Another empty hole. Sure, he’d try to build something with Dean, but that wasn’t going to work. Not once Dean figured out that Cas had left because of him. _Not once Dean finds out that I have to hide things from him the same way Cas has from me._ Life would become a disaster. _Haven’t I already been living an endless repeat of this fight? Just on the other side of it._

Cas left the shower, clearly upset. He toweled off without even glancing at Jack. In fact he was keeping himself from looking Jack’s way at all. This was eating him up. Cas obviously still cared.

 _I can’t let him go._ Jack stepped out of the shower and stole Cas’s towel away. Cas frowned up at him, but Jack swept forward and pinned him up against the counter. When Cas opened his mouth to say something, Jack stole a kiss. A muffled noise of surprise from Cas turned into the softest moan as Jack brushed his hands along favorite spots. They broke apart, light pants drifting across wet skin. Jack put his forehead against Cas’s. “Don’t ever leave.”

Cas jolted back. “You mean that?”

“I know things have been rough between us, but I want it to work. What I said before, I meant the way we’ve been with each other lately has to change.” Jack slid his hand up Cas’s back and held him close. “I want you here. I want _you_.”

This time Cas leaned in for the kiss. It was gentle, but firm. Jack slipped his tongue into Cas’s mouth and Cas wrapped his arms around his shoulders. They were kissing and it was familiar and new all at the same time.

Jack’s stomach growled. Cas broke away, laughing under his breath. He murmured, “Dinner should be ready.”

“Let’s get pants on first,” Jack said.

“I never thought I’d hear you suggest wearing clothing.”

“If we’re not dressed, I’m going to be too distracted by you to eat.”

Cas laughed and Jack realized he’d do anything to keep that smile on his face. He’d missed the way happiness lit up Cas’s face, made his eyes shine brightly. Rolling his eyes, Cas nudged Jack’s shoulder. “You have to move if we’re going anywhere.”

With a wicked grin, Jack nudged up between his legs. “We can do moving right here.”

“Dean has gone to a lot of work.” Cas lightly pushed Jack’s shoulders again. “Besides, I’m hungry now too.”

“All right, all right,” Jack said, finally backing away. “We’ll eat. But after dinner, we’re picking this back up.”

Cas grinned some more before leaving the bathroom. “Yes, ‘sir.’”


	51. Thought of a reward

Dean stalled the food as long as he possibly could without ruining it and tried not to be annoyed at his two boyfriends for taking their sweet time coming out of the shower. Honestly, he was hoping they weren’t going at it yet again. Every ticking second without them only set him further on edge. They had to be able to get along, didn’t they? Surely sometime before he came onto the scene, they had to be a cohesive couple. What was he going to do if they couldn’t fix this? He’d fallen in love with Jack, but couldn’t see himself happy without Cas in the picture too.

Crap, he was not going to burn the damn food. Not after making such a big deal out of everything. _Come on, you two!_

Cas came into the kitchen first and he was smiling in a soft, pleased way. He only had on pajama pants and his hair didn’t even seem damp. Maybe they hadn’t gotten into the shower at all. As Cas sat down at the table, Dean relaxed a few degrees. Couldn’t be worse if Cas was at ease. Dean opened his mouth to ask a question, then realized that the distance was a little greater than politeness would call for. Instead, he grabbed the bowl of green beans and took them over to the table. “What would you like to drink, master?”

“Water, please. I think it’s going to be important to stay hydrated tonight.”

Dean smirked. _He’s got a funny way of saying he’s wants to fuck all night._ Nodding once, Dean walked away to fill Cas’s request. Jack came into the room, also wearing only pants though his were actual slacks, and sat down beside Cas. Seemed like Jack was busy making gooey eyes at Cas which was a strange change of pace. A good one, but took some getting used to. Dean dropped off Cas’s glass and brought over the burgers and fresh-made chips. “Sir, what would you like to drink?”

“Water.”

Dean nodded and decided to get the same for himself. He’d be damned if he didn’t try to keep up with the two of them tonight. Once everything was set on the table, he sat down. Perched on the edge of the chair, he tried to be a little less obvious about watching for their reactions. Not that they were doing more than eating. They munched in silence and Dean about went nutty.

Jack broke the solitude first. He reached the middle of his burger and his eyebrows shot up in surprise, but still he waited until he was done chewing to say anything. “Wow. This is amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Excellent,” Cas agreed.

A warm, bright smile flushed over Dean. “Thank you.” Finally comfortable, he could plow into his own food, though he got up any time they needed water.

The food went quickly, and Dean’s estimations proved slightly too much of the green beans and not enough of the chips. That was mostly Jack’s fault. Man did just not seem to care about eating healthy, though Dean wondered where the impulse for more veggies came from. Wasn’t really like him to worry about them either, but he’d wanted to provide a fairly balanced meal for the three of them. After all, that’s what a good servant would do, right?

At the end of the meal, Cas rose from his seat and Dean hurried to do the same. He picked up Cas’s plate and was getting ready to take everything to the sink when Cas gently put a hand on his wrist. Dean’s gaze was drawn upwards to Cas’s. First time in ages Cas actually looked completely relaxed.

“Thank you for dinner, Dean,” Cas said.

Dean grinned. “No problem.”

“Do you want help with the dishes?” Jack asked.

“I got it,” Dean replied. He scooped up the plates and headed for the sink.

Jack took Cas over to the couch. Dean expected to hear the noise of the tv any second, but instead Jack flipped on the sound system to some instrumental crap. Really not Dean’s style, he preferred rock to this lazy-sounding piano and he was having a hard time not picturing a very bad porno start in his head. He stayed too focused on getting the kitchen cleaned up to hear any of the quiet talking going on between his boyfriends. At least his nerves were set at ease. Cas and Jack were in a good mood tonight and he’d made a great dinner.

And fixing the food, cleaning up afterwards, it was _working_. Dean had lost that nervous ball that had been sitting in his stomach the last couple of days. Having something to do helped, but getting praise from Cas had sparked some warmth in him. Didn’t feel so damn useless tonight. He finished with the dishes, glanced over the kitchen to admire the spotlessness, and finally headed towards the living room.

Only to stop in his tracks a few steps later.

Cas had straddled Jack’s lap and he had his arms wrapped loosely around Jack’s shoulders. They were locked in an intense kiss, so much that Dean wondered if they remembered he was in the room. Certainly leaving would get noticed, and there wasn’t any easy chore that he was tempted to do right now. He shouldn’t feel this tiny bit of embarrassment at being in the room while they did this. After all, Jack and Cas both seemed to get off watching him do stuff with the other one. So instead, he leaned against the wall and watched.

Jack broke the kiss off first, ducking his head just out of a dazed Cas’s lips. He slid his hands down Cas’s back before reaching out and motioning for Dean to get closer. “Thought of a reward,” he said as Dean neared them. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Come stand behind him.”

Dean did as Jack said, though his confusion didn’t lessen any. Jack was all big smiles and grins again. Still looking up at Cas, Jack pulled the edge of Cas’s sweatpants out and away. “Now, stay nice and close, you want to be flush with him. Good. Trace your hand down, along the top of his thigh, going in and under.”

 _In and under?_ Dean lightly grazed his fingers across Cas’s thigh, sweeping in towards his crotch. Cas tensed up a little and Dean wondered what the hell the big deal was about. As he brushed underneath Cas’s cock, Cas suddenly melted back against him. Dean explored the area between his thigh, cock, and balls. Cas moaned, rolled back against him, and held onto the leg of Dean’s slacks.

“Don’t linger there too long,” Jack said. “He hates losing control.”

“He can hear you,” Cas said, though his voice was thick and deep. He squirmed against Dean.

A slow, easy smile spread over Dean. He leaned in against Cas some as he drifted his hand across the spot once more. “I like pleasing you.”

Cas’s hand clutched harder. “I’ve discovered something unfair about having two of you.”

“What’s that?” Jack asked.

“I want to ride both of you.”

Both Jack and Dean laughed, though Dean tried to muffle his against Cas’s shoulder. “There’s ways of doing that,” Jack said.

“I’m not in the mood for that much cock in there at once.”

Something about the way Cas said that was the funniest, most precise way possible. Something so endearingly Castiel. Dean laughed some more and rubbed his hand down Cas’s shaft. “Looks like you’ll have to choose, master.”

Cas arched up more, twisting so that he could kiss Dean. “It’s still early. I could get to both of you.”

“There’s still who gets to be first.”

“I know what I want to watch,” Jack said.

Cas dipped down and kissed Jack. “Are you sure?”

Jack grinned up at Dean. “Are you kidding? The face he’ll wind up making will be priceless. I’m tempted to get the camera.” 

Dean felt his cheeks heating up. “Shut up.”

“Come on, where’s the respect?”

“Shut up, _sir_.”

Jack laughed and Cas kissed him again. Still caught between the two of them, Cas leaned back again to nuzzle at Dean’s throat. He moaned as Dean took another opportunity to brush against the sensitive spot. “Bedroom, everyone. Now.”


	52. Never think about leaving again.

Dean fumbled with the belt a couple times before he finally managed to drag the leather out of the buckle. Cas was shedding his sweatpants quickly. The bruises from past weeks still haunted his skin in shades of yellow, but he didn’t move as if he had any of those pains. The grin on his face was damn near devilish and Dean couldn’t stop staring at him. As he moved about the bedroom, Cas was just too damn beautiful.

Jack came up behind Dean, kissed behind his left ear. “Seems like someone’s in a good mood.”

Mouth dry, Dean couldn’t do more than nod in agreement. His reaction was ridiculous. He’d seen the guy naked before. A lot, really. Shouldn’t be so awestruck by him grabbing something as basic as lube.

Jack drifted over to Cas and pulled him in for another kiss. For once there was something energetic, excited, about they way they moved. Dean hadn’t realized how long that had been missing, if he’d ever seen them like this. When they finished, Cas leaned in and whispered to Jack. With a laugh, Jack nodded and pulled away. He swatted Dean on the ass as he left the room.

Dean glared over his shoulder, but Cas dragged his chin back to front. “Where’s Jack going?” Dean asked.

“I asked him to grab a few things. He’ll be back.” Cas pushed Dean towards the bed.

“Oh.” The only word he got out before Cas was on him, kissing and embracing him. Cas kept working them closer and closer to the bed until Dean ran into it. Dean sat and instantly, Cas climbed onto his lap.

“You look awestruck,” Cas said as he pulled his mouth away.

Dean flicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “I, uh, I haven’t seen you like this.”

“I’m sorry. These last few weeks have been hard. But tonight, I’m in a very good mood.” Cas leaned in for another long kiss.

Dean opened for him, allowing Cas to explore whatever he wanted. Felt like Cas was trying to touch his soul through their kiss. Dean hoped he would.

The bed shifted beside him. Jack had come back with something in his hands. At first, Dean didn’t care—the kissing was too addicting—but then he got a glimpse of what Jack was holding. Chain-linked leather cuffs were no surprise, however the other item was new. Dean broke off the kiss. “A riding crop?”

Cas got a smug smile. “I did say I wanted to ride you. If you consent, we’ll cuff your hands to the headboard. We probably won’t use the crop much.”

“My hands might be useful in a position like this,” Dean said.

Cas ran his hand down Dean’s chest and abdomen. “I want to watch these muscles work.”

 _Okay. Not going to deny that_. “Yeah, okay.”

“Jack, help me get him in position.”

And then they were pushing Dean up the bed until he was stretched out on it, his wrists waiting on the bed over his head. Jack threaded one cuff around Dean’s wrist, then slid the chain through a gap in the headboard before bringing the second cuff to Dean’s other wrist. Being tied down sent another thrill through Dean. _Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this_.

Jack settled into a spot beside Dean. His body pressed along Dean’s side and he drifted fingertips over him. “You are too handsome. You both are.”

Cas grinned as he straddled Dean’s hips. “Flatterer.”

“What? This is going to be hot.”

Dean tried not to squirm, but Jack’s breath was playing over his neck and Cas looked ready to fuck him into next year. Hard to keep still in this kind of situation. He tilted his head back and focused on breathing deeply a couple of times. No good overdoing it and losing himself early.

Cas leaned over to the nightstand and dug out a bottle of lube. Dean watched him up until Jack dragged his chin over. They kissed while Cas worked himself open with the lube. By the time Cas gently pushed Jack away, Dean’s lips were swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust, and his cock more than eager. When Cas brushed his fingers against Dean’s length, Dean bucked up with a groan. Jack chuckled a sound that tickled along his skin and Dean bit back another moan.

“I want to hear everything,” Cas said as he coated Dean with more lube. His eyes were like two blue ropes, keeping Dean’s gaze in place. “Let the natural impulses have their way with your throat.” 

“Yes, master,” Dean whispered.

He was rewarded with another broad smile from Cas and another slow stroke down his cock. Then Cas was moving, tugging Dean’s cock up so he could push onto him. It took a few minutes before Cas was all the way down. Both of them were panting. Dean wouldn’t have guessed Cas was so damn tight, almost too tight.

Jack sat up on his knees and pulled Cas’s attention away in a long kiss. They moved like time had slowed down, even Jack’s hand taking its sweet time to play in the space where Dean and Cas met. Cas moaned, loosening his grip on Dean ever so slightly.

The damn picture above him was so erotic, the moans Cas made so deep, Dean couldn’t help getting harder. Despite his attempt at control, Dean bucked up into Cas.

Cas tilted his head back and moaned. Even while Jack kissed and licked at his neck, Cas gazed down at Dean with lust-hungry eyes. “Again.”

Dean rolled his hips up. When he went for a third time, Cas moved against him, increasing their touch. A fourth, a fifth and they found a rhythm. Soon, Jack moved back to Dean’s side, taking the riding crop and raking it across tender spots of Dean. His bucks upwards became wilder and Cas met him, rode him. Jack was at his neck again. There was no escaping them. They’d do what they wanted with him and they _wanted him_.

Dean’s throat was going hoarse with the moans. He was on the edge, but he tried not to tumble over. Tried not to get caught up in the sounds Cas made, the way their skin rubbed against each other. Then Jack was nibbling at his throat and rubbing the end of the crop against his ass. Still, he could hold out. But like some strange cue, Jack turned a nibble into a sucking kiss and Cas clenched around him. Dean lost out to blinding bliss. He was vaguely aware Jack was laughing, but he didn’t care. He was numbed out on pleasure.

 

*******

“I think you overdid it,” Jack said with a chuckle.

Castiel panted and focused on gaining back his breath. He’d almost tumbled over into orgasm with Dean, but had pulled back at the last moment. With a deep growl, he ordered, “Take off your pants.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed. Still with that big grin, he laid back against the bed. “Think you said something about riding both of us.”

With an equal smile, Castiel gently moved off of Dean and straddled Jack’s hips. The other man took only a small amount of coaxing, which dragged a wonderful moan out of him, before he was hard enough. Castiel slid onto him almost too easily, but that made Jack clutch at his hips harder. “Wait,” Castiel said between breaths. “Before we—unlock Dean’s wrist. Just in case.”

Jack nodded and reached over. Castiel stole the chance to lean down and kiss down the line of his neck. There was that laugh of his again, the one Castiel had missed in the last few weeks. He pressed his lips to Jack again and again until finally Jack locked mouths with him. They sought each other greedily.

Finally, Castiel broke away. He gulped down air, centered himself. Then slowly began to work his way up and down Jack. He was stretched enough, that wasn’t his problem. _I’m too tired to keep this up_. Castiel clenched his teeth and tried harder anyway.

In a fluid motion, Jack sat up and wrapped his arms around Castiel. “What’s wrong?” he muttered between tiny kisses.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” Jack teased.

With a huff, Castiel dropped his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted.”

“We can take a break.”

“No. I want you.”

Jack pecked at his neck and Castiel tilted his head to the side. “Then maybe we switch positions.”

Before another word was said, Jack spun them so Castiel was on his back. He hated this position, hated being underneath. Worse, Jack slid a pillow under Castiel’s ass and hooked his legs up over his shoulders. Castiel pushed up onto his elbows, an annoyed statement ready to fly from his lips, but Jack pushed in.

And brushed along _that_ place inside.

Castiel fell back against the bed and moaned. “More.”

“Yes, master,” Jack said with just a hint of sarcastic glee.

 _Oh, I’ll punish him for that later. Maybe. God, it hasn’t felt this good in a long time_. Castiel writhed against the bed. Jack was doing a bulk of the work now and the result was amazing. Taking his own advice, Castiel held back nothing.

Metal clinked and a hand wrapped around his cock. Couldn’t be Jack’s—Jack had both in other places. Castiel twisted slightly and there was Dean. Dean whose green eyes were still fairly orgasm-blown. He nestled in, kept his hand stroking Castiel, and moved in for a kiss. One lover’s cock in him and the other lover’s tongue in his mouth. The coil inside him, that urge to spill over, was tightening. Harder. Faster. More.

Sprung. Liquid, not flesh. Warmth, darkness. Opening his eyes and being met by green ones so close. Smell of sweat and leather, vanilla and musk. Another cry hitting the air, but not his this time. Jack’s. More warmth.

Dean’s smile. Jack’s arms. The feel of both of them around him as they became a tangle of limbs. Castiel nuzzled, found the forming hickey on Dean’s neck and licked it. Found Jack’s hand and linked their fingers together.

Jack whispering in his ear. “Never think about leaving again.”

Oh, he never would. But he didn’t have the energy to say it. Instead, he cuddled up with his two lovers and fell promptly asleep.


	53. Kissing

_A few weeks later_ …

“Boy, you going to spend the whole time with that thing or you gonna help?” Bobby demanded.

“It’s not a thing. It’s my car and I haven’t seen it in a while, so shove it,” Dean said as he walked out of the garage. He’d gotten out into the country a couple days early—no sense sticking around in a city when he didn’t have a job to occupy him—and had helped with the Roadhouse the last couple of nights. Today was the big day. The Fourth.

 _Otherwise known as the day I might embarrass the shit out of myself_. Dean sighed, shoved away the voice in his head that was clanging around, and followed Bobby back to the grill.

“You talk to your brother yet?” Bobby asked as he worked on detaching the old propane tank.

“We’ll get around to it.”

“You two being stubborn isn’t helping anyone.”

“I’m not—Bobby, we’re just not ready to talk, okay?” Dean brought over the new tank, putting it into position for Bobby and then taking away the empty.

“I don’t even know what the two of you were fighting about.”

“It’s not a fight,” Dean said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bobby grumbled. “Go get the food. I want to get some of it cooked up before people get here.”

Getting ordered around like a kid wasn’t Dean’s idea of a good time, but this was Bobby. Only guy on the planet who got to talk to him like that. _Except those lovers of yours. They order you to do all kinds of things_. Dean wanted to kick himself in the head. His dad’s voice had been banished a while ago, but it cropped up unexpectedly. More so since he was around family and the Roadhouse.

Sam was going through the veggies when Dean entered the walk-in fridge. He almost walked back out, but Sam was already looking up and over at him. Instead, he shouldered past his brother to where the meats were hiding in the back. Apparently that finally tested Sam’s patience. He asked, “Dude, what is your problem?”

“Don’t have one,” Dean said.

“Bullshit. You haven’t called. Haven’t emailed. And now you’re giving me a cold shoulder. What the hell did I do?”

“Give a guy a couple months and he completely forgets what an asshole he is.” Dean grabbed the tray and headed for the door.

“Look, Dean—”

Oh great, now Sammy was going to follow him out into the backyard. Dean kept walking, but Sam’s stride was technically longer. Didn’t take anything for him to keep up. Bobby got one good look at them and was suddenly abandoning the grill. _Awesome_.

“Dean, will you slow down?” Sam demanded.

“Food ain’t going to cook itself.”

“What did I do?”

“You freaking called me a whore!”

And now they were staring at each other. Dean broke away first, getting the grill going and focusing his attention there. Sam gaped, recovered, and said, “I never said that.”

“Pretty sure it’s exactly what you meant.”

“I would never—”

“You basically accused me of sleeping with them for money. How is that not meaning to call me a whore? And a stupid one on top of that since I met them online.”

“Dean—”

“And you know what’s even more fun? Bobby and Ellen treating me like _I’m_ the one who’s done something wrong here. But I didn’t do anything.”

“The hell you didn’t. You hated that I was going back to Stanford. You kept walking around with this hurt look on your face and it was all my fault. What was I supposed to do about that Dean?”

“I was jealous, okay?” Dean snapped. He finally turned away from the grill and faced Sam. “You got this whole life plan ahead of you and I’m screwed. I’ve been job hunting for a year now and nothing’s come up. And then I get one good thing going in my life and you act like I’m some freaking slut spreading his ass for a couple of rich bastards. Was I supposed to be happy about that? Ditch everything and go back to sleeping on Bobby’s couch until some other miracle dropped in my lap? I’m in love with them, Sammy. I’m not going to give that up because you’ve got your head stuck up your ass.”

“You’re in love with them?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. I am.”

“That’s huge, Dean.”

Dean kept his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, it kind of is. But you got this look on your face I’m not liking.”

“Well, just, how well do you know them? You’ve been dating what, a couple weeks?”

“Couple months. And you know what? We get each other, that’s the important part.”

“There’s a lot more that matters in a relationship.”

“If you want to vet them, fine. They’re on their way out here.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Ellen and Jo wanted to meet them, so they’re coming out to the party tonight. Ask ‘em whatever you want.” Dean turned back to the meat and got some of it cooking.

“Wow, you must really like them. I don’t think you’ve ever brought anyone to the Roadhouse before.”

“Nope. So don’t be a dick.”

“I’ll try to keep an open mind,” Sam said and this time his tone had a lot more sincerity.

“That’s all I ask.”

Sam went back into the Roadhouse and Dean finally felt like he could breathe. He enjoyed the solitude of working with the grill for about ten minutes before Bobby sidled up to him with his hands in his pockets. “Looks like the two of you talked.”

“How can you tell?”

“Both of you are in a slightly better mood. Think I finally saw Sam smile.”

Dean snorted. _Course he feels better. At least I didn’t have to grovel this time_.

“How soon are Jack and Cas supposed to get here?” Bobby asked.

“Sometime in the next hour. Cas is the one texting updates, so they could get here sooner. Apparently Jack likes to speed down highways.”

“They see your car yet?”

“Yeah, though they didn’t have a chance to appreciate her.”

“Hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be having sex in my garage.”

Dean grinned big. “Okay, we’ll keep it out in the open. You might even get a good glimpse.”

“I take it back. Use the garage all you want.”

“Thought that might be what’d you say,” Dean said.

Jo leaned out the back door of the Roadhouse. “Hey, Dean. There’s these two hotties in the bar and if you don’t come in here, I’m tempted to claim them for myself.”

Dean handed the spatula over to Bobby. “Okay, they’re here way earlier than I expected.”

“Well, ain’t this a good thing?”

“Don’t you see me smiling?” Dean replied. He crossed through the yard and slipped into the backdoor behind Jo.

Jack and Cas were already in the big empty barroom. And for worse or better, Sam was shaking hands with Jack. They were making introductions all on their own. Dean wanted to turn around and go back outside. Suddenly this was all a little too real and he didn’t want to deal with any of it.

Jo put a hand on his chest. “Whoa, Dean. What’s wrong?”

He shouldered his way past her. “Nothing.”

Then he was back outside in the fresh air, gulping it down like he’d drown without it. He wasn’t going to get nauseous or freak out anymore. He was over the freaking out. Didn’t even have a reason to be getting worked up like this. _Except the nearest thing to Dad just met your boyfriends and you can’t even go near them. Afraid he’ll judge you? See what kind of freak you really are. Come on, it’s Sam._

 _Yeah, Sam who accused you of being a whore and only barely took it back._ Dean focused on breathing, leaning his head back. The more he told himself the reaction was stupid, the greater the wind up. _After all, people expect you to act like a fucking grown up. So be a man, Dean. Stop it._

“Dean?” Cas’s voice was close.

“I’m fine,” Dean muttered.

“You’re pale. Well, actually, you’re more tan than you were a few days ago, and then pale on top of that.”

Dean chuckled. “That you way of trying to distract me?”

“A little. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Wasn’t expecting Sam to get to you before me. I mean, he knows. This is ridiculous. Shouldn’t be panicking like this at all. Doesn’t make any damn sense.”

“Sometimes panic attacks don’t.”

“Oh, bullshit. This has got a reason. I don’t know what it is,” Dean said as he opened his eyes.

Cas glanced over his shoulder and then stepped outside with Dean. The door swung shut and while Bobby was about thirty feet away, Dean couldn’t help feeling that they had some real privacy now. “You’re afraid your brother’s perception of you will change.”

“I don’t want to think about it, okay? It’s stupid and I just want to be over it.”

Cas stood there silently, almost within touching range, but not quite. Dean would have to reach for him and practically make a show out of it if he wanted to have a physical connection right there. Fear clogged up the back of his throat and he worried that nothing was going to happen here between them. Finally, Cas stepped close, offered his hand out to Dean, and said, “I’ve missed you.”

Dean took his hand and nudged in close. He wanted the kiss, a small one. Cas lightly brushed his lips against Dean’s and then Dean was stepping back, though he held onto Cas’s hand. “Missed you guys too. How’s it been?”

“I think Jack has been intentionally leaving a mess everywhere in the apartment. Or he has gotten too accustomed to having you clean everything.”

“What would he do without me?” Dean joked.

“I suspect have me complain until he finally cleaned up his own mess.” Cas smirked. “Though it wouldn’t be the same as getting to watch you on your hands and knees.”

Dean blushed. “The two of you can not say that kind of shit around here. Looks like I’m going to have a hard enough time holding on as it is.”

“I’ll try to warn Jack.”

“Please. Keep it private.”

“Oh, that is just an invitation to torture you more.” Cas leaned in closer and whispered in his ear, “Have I mentioned how much I like your ass?”

Dean laughed and flushed all at once. “You kinda suck at dirty talk.”

“And you’re so much better at it?”

“Sure I am.” Bringing Cas in close again, Dean tilted his head in towards Cas’s. “I miss getting on my knees for you. Sliding my tongue down your cock. Feeling your hand tighten in my hair. God, I want you to take me into the garage and pin me up against my car—”

Cas captured his mouth in a heated kiss, pushing him up against the building more. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders and tried to forget that Bobby could see them. When Cas pushed his leg in between Dean’s, forgetting about everything but the way their hands were on each other was easy.

“Where’s my hello?” Jack teased.

If he wasn’t red before, Dean definitely was now. He didn’t want Cas to move far away because the boner in his jeans was going to obvious, but Cas was moving. Dean grabbed on to Jack and brought him in for a deep kiss. Didn’t serve to lessen that erection any. Jack had a nice warm smile for him after and he grinned back. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Jack murmured. His eyes were half-glazed over in lust.

“We should probably conduct ourselves better,” Cas said.

“Please tell me no one’s staring,” Dean muttered.

Jack ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “I don’t think they’re going to care.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“And easy for you to believe, if you want.” Jack kissed him gently, nothing more than a press of lips. 

Dean let go of him slowly. Sam was back there with them now and if his eyes went any wider, they might actually pop out of his head. Dean scowled at his brother—though in a less serious fashion than earlier—and said, “What? Never seen people kiss before?”

“Not you. Not like that. I think I need to wash my eyes out,” Sam said.

Jack’s expression grew darker and Dean was confused for a moment. Then he realized what the cause of that probably was. He cleared his throat. “‘Cause we’re guys?”

“What? Of course not! I just don’t need to see my brother getting turned on like that.” Sam scoffed. “Get a room.”

Jack’s smile came back and he wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulder. “I see a garage over that way.”

“There’s always the stockroom, too,” Dean replied.

“Gross,” Sam said before walking over to Bobby.

Dean laughed and Jack suddenly swooped in to kiss his cheek. “There’s the sound I missed,” Jack said.

“Sure you didn’t miss another one?” Dean said.

“You’re feeling better,” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Dean was happy they were there. That the sun was shining and that the rest of his family was close. Tonight was looking to be a really good night. After a perfect quiet moment, Dean slipped out from underneath Jack’s arm. “All right. I got to get back to helping before you two make me look like a total slacker.”

He thought that’d be the end of it, but Jack had to pat his ass as he walked away. Dean jumped and glared at him, which only made Jack laugh harder. Delightfully embarrassed, Dean went back into the Roadhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, don't panic folks, but to me PB has always been sort of a trilogy that I never bothered breaking up. I pointed out when Book 1 ended, Book 2 ended at Chapter 52, so this is the beginning of Book 3. 
> 
> Meaning that yeah, we're heading into the last book. But don't fret! I still see this going on for something like... well, my heart says at least 40 more chapters. My brain wonders if it will take that long for these plots, or if it might take even longer. There's a lot about to happen and I'm excited for these plots.


	54. Talking

Jack decided against having another rum and coke. The bonfire was bright and hot, and a bit much for the summer heat, but people gathered around it anyway. Several of the local women had made passes at him, but he’d grinned and declined that too. Dean got so jealous of one woman that he actually put his arm around Jack’s waist and said, “Look, great that you think he’s hot, but he’s taken.”

Jack couldn’t help feeling that slight jealous pang when women—men seemed awfully shy about coming on to other men out here—approached Dean or Cas. They tended to come near Dean more, seeing a familiar face and not realizing that he was taken these days. Dean smiled and was polite. They were all on their best behavior, so not one person could think the party was spoiled. But as the night wore on, Jack wanted to steal his boyfriends away and remind them just how much he wanted them.

Though maybe Dean was getting a little too drunk for that. He’d started with beer not long after Jack and Cas had arrived and he’d moved on to hard liquor sometime around nightfall. Bobby had already assured him that Dean wasn’t going to be handling the rockets this year. That was going to be Jo and Sam’s department apparently.

The first firework was loosed into the sky and a bright white flare went off against the night sky. The pop that followed got everyone else’s attention. Soon they were letting them off in little waves. Color against the darkness. Beautiful to wathc.

“You’re thinking,” Cas said as he came over to Jack’s side.

“We’re finally getting a glimpse of Dean in his natural habitat,” Jack said.

“I think he’s been showing us what he’s like all along,” Cas said.

“He’s freer here. Less worried.”

“You didn’t see the panic on his face when he left the Roadhouse.”

“When we got here? I did.” And he was still struggling to figure out exactly what had happened between the brothers. Dean would only defend Sam if the subject came up, saying that sam might be a jackass but he was family so just let it go. That hadn’t changed despite the drunker Dean got.

“I would hardly call that freer.”

Jack sighed heavily. “Okay, that one moment, he was tense. But the rest of the time? He’s like a dog who finally gets to be outside all day. I’m not sure city life is for him.”

“Well, I don’t see how we’d get away from our responsibilities any time soon,” Cas replied. “He wants to be with us. We haven’t forced anything on him.”

 _No. But would the Angels really let him walk away_? Jack folded his arms over his chest. “Fair enough. But maybe we need to consider taking a vacation at the end of summer. Go to upper New York or something. Just the three of us.”

“I’d like that. I’d like getting the two of you home and naked just as much.” Cas finished off a drink.

Jack blinked at him. Cas had a ruddier skin tone, his words had the slightest edge of a slur. With a laugh, he asked, “Are you drunk?”

“I think I’m getting that way. Jo keeps handing me these drinks and telling me to loosen up.”

“Well, it’s working.”

Dean joined them and Jack held his hand out for him. He wanted the touch, but he couldn’t just grab Dean here. Public scenes could cause panic attacks. Dean tilted—the earlier assessment of drunkenness proving true—and then took Jack’s hand. Going even farther, he stepped into Jack’s personal space and Jack had to put his arms around him to keep him upright. “Having a good time?” Jack murmured against his ear.

“God, be careful with that voice of yours. I’m liable to go down on you right here.”

A nearby woman choked on her drink, but Dean didn’t seem to notice. She stared at them, probably picturing what that might look like. Jack kissed his cheek. “Might want to keep your voice down.”

“Oh. Right. People.” Dean leaned his head back against Jack’s shoulder. At least Dean was so caught up in the moment he wasn’t worried about others seeing him. Their bodies fit together so well that Jack didn’t mind Dean’s inability to stand.

“Perhaps we should get him to bed,” Cas said with a dark glint in his eye.

“It’s not even midnight!” Dean complained.

“Who said anything about sleeping?”

Jack tightened his hold on Dean since the younger man began to slip away from him. “That’s not happening for a few more hours.”

Both boyfriends gave him a surprised look.

“You’re drunk!” Jack said. “Cas is going to hate me in the morning if anything happens tonight.”

“I have been way drunker than this and still gotten it up,” Dean boasted.

“I don’t care. Sober up a little, then we’ll revisit the subject.”

Dean groaned. “Killjoy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said quietly.

They stayed close together and watched the rest of the fireworks. The rockets flared, the crowd was wowed, and eventually Jo announced that they were coming up on the end. There was one last round of bright colored flashes followed up by a round of applause. Dean finally extracted himself from Jack’s arms. “If I can’t play with your stick, we should go play some pool.”

Jack chuckled. “And you were telling us not to make that kind of comment?”

“Shut up.” Dean’s tone was sharp, and he seemed to catch onto that because he looked apologetic. “Or don’t.” With a laugh, he continued on, “Okay, I might be a little too drunk after all. But we can still play pool.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, though his attention was divided. An older man—Bobby, if Jack remembered right—was doing a lot of staring in their direction. “Why don’t you two go set up a game? I’ll catch up.”

“I’m so going to kick your ass.” Dean leaned in and stole a quick kiss before running off with Cas to the Roadhouse.

Jack watched them for a moment. When he turned to look for Bobby, the older man had slipped away into the darkness and milling crowd. He frowned, but couldn’t catch sight of him.

“Was hoping to get a chance to talk to you.”

Jack spun back and there was Bobby holding out a drink to him. He itched to accept it, but he’d hit his limit for the night already. Sure, he was sober enough, but the last big party he’d sort of overdone it. So he forced a grin and shook his head. “Had enough tonight.”

“Suppose someone’s gotta stay sober. Dean sure as hell isn’t.” Bobby poured the offered drink into his own cup and took a swallow. “You’re older than I would’ve guessed.”

That so hadn’t been on Jack’s list of possible issues Dean’s family would have. Jack shrugged and tried to play it as no big deal. “I’m not that old.”

“Uh huh. Dean’s only going to be thirty-one in January.”

And Jack winced. In April, he’d turn forty-three and in a few weeks Cas would be thirty-six. That was a big age gap, though they were getting to the age where that mattered less. Bobby caught that look and scowled at him. Jack let out a deep breath. “Okay. He seems a lot older.”

“Probably because he’s had to be an adult since he was a kid. John was never exactly easy on him.”

Jack reflexively clenched his jaw, remembering a certain party and confession. The source of Dean’s panic attacks.

Bobby was judging him. While Dean had hardly said anything about his family, Jack had gotten the impression that Ellen and Bobby were the important role models in his life. The constants. And suddenly Jack was wondering if Bobby was as much of an asshole as Dean’s father and brother. Their little staring contest had an element of intimidation to it now, and Jack wasn’t going to back down. If Bobby showed some of that same crap, Jack would drive Dean and Cas back to the city. Tonight.

Slowly, Bobby said, “So, he told you. About his dad.”

“Yes.” Jack didn’t bother hiding the sharp edge in his voice.

“Man loved his children, but he was an asshole.”

“In my experience, you love someone, you don’t cause a trauma that inflicts panic attacks,” Jack replied.

Bobby’s eyes went wide in surprise. “He’s been having what?”

“Panic attacks. Any time Cas and I get too close in public, he has trouble breathing.”

“He’s been over you two all night!”

“He tries forcing himself to do better and I think the alcohol’s numbed out the social pressure.”

“Nobody’s told me about ‘em. How long they been going on?”

Jack shrugged. “Dean’s never dated a man before, but I’m guessing they would have been triggered any time.”

Bobby’s scowl deepened. He took a big swallow and glared into the fire. “I should’ve kicked his ass.”

“That wouldn’t help De—”

“Not Dean. John. Man had two brilliant great kids and he practically destroyed them all for his stupid mission.” Bobby gave out a huge sigh, his shoulders sagging a bit. “And I should’ve done it when the man shot his mouth off on the subject. I was just too damn afraid that if I showed any kind of support, I’d never see them again.” Bobby finally glanced up at Jack, something between apology and hopefulness on his face. “But Dean seems better. A lot better. Happy, even. Decent weight to him, bags under his eyes gone, and a lot less twitchy. And I don’t think I’ve seen that boy smile so much in a single night since, hell, maybe ever.”

That brought a warm smile out of Jack. Surrogate parental approval was more than he’d dared hope for on this trip. “He smiles a lot around us.”

“Good. You love him?”

“Yes.”

Bobby nodded, took another drink, and then pointed towards the junkyard on the far side of the property. “You see that?”

Jack nodded.

“You or Cas hurt him, and they’ll never find the pieces.”

“We hurt him, and I might just let you kill me for it.”

“Oh I won’t be doing the killing.” Bobby pointed over at Ellen. “ _She’_ ll be the one who’ll tear you apart. Probably start with the balls.”

Jack would have laughed, but he figured that Bobby was only half-joking. “Yes, sir.”

“All right. Am I going to have to corner Cas and have the same conversation with him?” Bobby demanded.

“I think Cas is a little too drunk to hear it tonight, but I think he’d appreciate it.”

“You’re not supposed to ‘appreciate’ it,” Bobby growled.

Jack grinned at him. “I get the feeling that you’d only bother giving this kind of talk to someone you want to like. If we didn’t stand a chance of passing, Dean wouldn’t be going back to the city. Cas will see it the same way.”

“Well, shit. You’re right about that. Good to know Dean’s found himself some smart ones.” Bobby finally turned towards Jack and his demeanor shifted. He was more relaxed, less guard dog. “Okay, forgive my ignorance on this, but all three of you dating. How’s that work?”

“Like any relationship. Time and effort.”

“You guys never have fights where it’s two against one? Squabble and tear apart the guy in the middle?”

Jack thought about lying, and breezing past some of the trouble they’d had. Somehow, he figured that Bobby would know he was lying. Besides, a bit of truth now would make any future lies easier to get past him. Not that Jack planned on lying, exactly. _An old conman instinct._ “We haven’t had many fights. Cas and I were having issues, but we didn’t toss Dean into the middle of it. If he felt the strain of it, he never told us.”

“He wouldn’t. Dean’ll suffer in silence until something damn near kills him, specially if someone he cares about is doing the hurting. You got to watch out for that.”

“Like with Sam.”

“Sam?” Bobby’s scowl returned. “Thought those two made up.”

“Something tells me that Dean’s going to bury it.”

“Dean bury it? He’s the one that’s been treating Sam like crap since he took off for Stanford.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Bobby demanded.

“Even I don’t know exactly. Dean doesn’t talk about it, but he said something a while ago about Sam disapproving. I thought it was Dean’s attraction to men, but we cleared that up earlier.”

Bobby scowled, obviously thinking. Then he finished off his drink and shook his head. “Can’t believe I didn’t put the pieces together. That stupid son of a bitch. Sometimes he takes after his father.”

“So what’s it about?” Jack asked.

“Don’t you worry about it. I’m going to have a word with the boy.”

Jack grabbed Bobby’s arm and made him stop. “Give me some kind of clue. I don’t have the patience to drag it out of Dean tonight.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m absolutely right about this, but John instilled a deep work ethic. Don’t take handouts. Be a man and provide for yourself. Which is bullshit because I never met a man more willing to skim off his friends. I think he internalized all that guilt and thought he was teaching the boys to be better.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jack asked.

“Because you and Cas offered Dean all this money and help. Sam probably said something about ‘earning’ it.”

In an even darker mood, Jack glared out into the crowd, looking for the taller Winchester. He wasn’t too hard to spot since he was the tallest person there.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger,” Bobby said. Their stances changed, Bobby now having to hold Jack back. “Like I said, I don’t know that that’s what happened. I’ll talk to the boy. You should get inside with Cas and Dean before they miss you too much.”

“If he—”

“I’ll deal with him. Rat him out to Ellen if I have to. Or Jo. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Harvelle women. You leave this to family.”

“Dean _is_ family,” Jack snarled.

“Good to hear. Now scoot.”

Jack took a step towards Sam.

“No. Other way. If we don’t get through to him, then I’ll let you have a turn. Deal?”

Jack glared some more in Sam’s direction, but nodded. He backed off and headed for the Roadhouse.

“Hey, Jack.”

He turned back.

“It’s good to see someone so ready to fight for him,” Bobby said.

Jack nodded. As he headed inside, he vowed that he was going to get that word in with Sam at some point before the left for Manhattan. He managed to force a smile on his face and hoped his two lovers would be too drunk to notice its falseness.

“Cas, if you knock the cue ball in, the other ball has to come out. It’s in the rules.” Dean’s voice was carrying, bringing more amusement to Jack’s grin before he even got a look at what was going on.

And that was a fun sight. Dean was trying to duck around Cas and get his hand down the pocket, but Cas was full body blocking the hole. Ash laughed at them, but that didn’t distract them.

Jo brought out a tray of shots. “Dean’s right. It’s got to come out,” she said. “And stop fighting and drink.” She caught sight of Jack walking into the room. “Oh. I didn’t make you one.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Okay. Here,” she said to the others as she handed out the shots.

They all downed the round of alcohol.

And then Cas decided to turn around and dig out all the balls.

“All right. New game, and you can’t play,” Dean said.

“I was simply taking everything out of the hole—” Cas began.

Dean nipped at Cas’s lips. “No. Playing. Before I think up some other punishment.”

Cas’s cheeks flushed at the word and Jack marveled at that. Cas had always been the dom in their relationship. Hell, the only time Jack had taken any measure of control was that night a few weeks ago, but something about that blush made Jack wonder if they shouldn’t see about tying Cas down sometime soon.

Cas hooked his fingers into Dean’s belt and whispered something in his ear. Or, at least, he had intended to whisper at that short distance. “I should punish you for that tone of voice.”

“Get a room!” Jo teased.

“You know, another beer and we won’t even notice what they’re up to,” Ash said.

“You just want more free booze,” Jo replied.

“You have seen into my heart, my lady. But please, on this hallowed night, in the spirit of freedom, provide us with another round.”

Jo rolled her eyes, but headed back to the bar. “Who else wants some?”

“Oh, I want plenty,” Dean said before kissing Cas.

“Probably should get him some water,” Jack said. “Same for me.”

“Not me!” Cas said. “I want another thing like you gave me before.”

“Okay, but this should probably be the last one for everyone. Epic clean-up in the morning,” Jo said.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” Dean said with a groan. He set up racking the balls in a clearly habitual way. “And since Cas can’t play, you want in Jack?”

“You and me against Ash and Jo?” Jack asked.

“I’m just watching Ash kick everyone’s ass,” Jo said. “And apparently playing barmaid.”

“I could do that,” Dean offered.

Jack kept a few juicy teasing remarks to himself because he didn’t want to ruin the good mood. “Maybe Ash will want the help,” Jack said as he took the pool cue from Cas. Cas was frowning at him, so Jack kissed him lightly.

“You kidding? The man is an MIT genius. He can kick all of our asses, sober or not,” Dean said.

“You haven’t seen me play.”

“That sounds like a challenge, mi amigo. Ready to wager on it?” Ash asked.

“No. No money on this,” Dean interrupted. “I don’t need my boyfriends losing a wad of cash to a hustler.”

Jack smiled and shrugged. He lined up a perfect shot. “Who said anything about losing?”


	55. Cleaning

Sunlight burned at Castiel’s eyes. He rolled and ran into someone. Jack, from the smell of him. Castiel buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. Jack wrapped an arm around him. “Hey. We have to get up.”

“No,” Castiel said.

“The others are already moving.”

Castiel latched onto Jack more. “Not. Moving.”

Jack gently ran a hand along Castiel’s spine. “Someone’s a little hungover, huh?”

“Someone is _very_ hungover.”

“Hey,” Dean said. “Coffee.”

That didn’t matter as much as blocking the sun from his eyes and keeping still before the nausea overtook him. Castiel shook his head slightly.

“We have to move,” Jack said. “Everyone else has already started.”

“Started what?” Castiel demanded.

“Cleaning up,” Dean replied. “Come on. Shake a leg already.”

“I don’t think I like this Dean,” Castiel murmured against Jack’s ear.

“Wake up and take the coffee. You’ll feel differently,” Jack whispered back.

Castiel sat up. The sun was worse than it was before. Opening his eyes caused the pounding his head to worsen. He drew his knees up to his chest. Dean held a coffee mug down in front of him and Castiel only took it to get Dean to move away. The coffee was warm, almost too warm for the summer morning, but Castiel took a gulp of it. And it was the closest thing to ambrosia that he had ever tasted. Still refusing to open his eyes, he drank the liquid down.

“I think we should leave him here,” Jack said.

“Yeah, doesn’t seem like you’re going to be much help, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel mumbled. “I overdid it last night.”

Dean smirked and chuckled. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to see. How much do you remember?”

“Jo kept putting drinks in my hands. Jack said we shouldn’t have sex—which thank you, for that. Then we played pool.”

“So not the part where you were totally grabbing my ass in front of everyone?” Dean said.

“Or the part where we had to trick you into lying down for the night,” Jack added.

Castiel winced. “I made a complete fool of myself.”

Dean put a hand on his shoulder and the motion was almost too jarring for Castiel’s weakened stomach. “Into every party is the one who must be the drunkest.”

“At least none of your coworkers were around to see,” Jack said.

Castiel nodded and then drank more of the coffee. He didn’t want to think about what the angels would do if they discovered he allowed himself to get in this state. Of course, Crowley would just laugh. A wave of nausea was making everything worse. He pushed aside the blanket. The heat was making everything worse. “Water.”

“I’ll get you some. Then Jack and I need to really help,” Dean said.

Another nod. Dean went away, slamming the door. At least, it sounded like he slammed the door. Castiel felt like he was probably oversensitive to sound as well as sight.

“Take it, it’s bad,” Jack said quietly.

“Yes.”

“You going to listen the next time I say stop?”

“I want you to forcibly take the alcohol from me if you have to.” Castiel groaned, and that only worsened everything he felt. It was like it was all one bad move away from tossing everything out of his body and onto the ground.

Dean came back out the door and he let the damn thing swing shut so hard that Castiel jumped. “Hey, if you’re going to vomit, try to keep it off the porch. Garden’s half dead anyway, shoot for that.”

Castiel took the bottle of water offered to him and nodded mutely. His lovers walked off into the yard. Dean had two black plastic bags and he handed one to Jack. Farther off, Sam and Jo were already picking their way across the large lawn that was between the house and the Roadhouse. Even from this distance, Castiel could see a lot of trash. The others would be working for some time. _Good. Maybe I’ll have a chance to get my stomach under control._

The cold water bottle felt good against the back of his neck. Between the coffee and the water, Castiel’s stomach began to settle, though not enough to get rid of the vomity sensation that threatened the back of his throat. At some point he’d have to get solid food, but the thought of it only unsettled him again.

“Something’s bothering you.”

Castiel frowned and glanced around. There wasn’t anyone nearby, and the voice sounded like it belonged to Ellen, who he hadn’t seen yet this morning. Getting a good look over his shoulder, he spotted that the kitchen windows were wide open.

“We got a house full of people and a yard full of trash. I’m plenty bothered,” Bobby replied.

“That why you shut up the second Sam came down this morning?”

Bobby hesitated for a long moment. “I tell you what happened and you’re going to lose it on him. Don’t think it’s going to help anything.”

“What did Sam do now? He’s only been back a day,” Ellen said.

“He didn’t do it last night. Not initially.”

“Bobby Singer, stop hedging my questions.”

“Well it turns out that fight between him and Dean wasn’t all Dean’s fault.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Well, you didn’t,” Bobby snapped.

“Don’t take that attitude with me.”

“Sorry, it’s just, I didn’t expect Sam to be such a moron.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he wanted to keep hearing this conversation. He was invading their privacy. On the other hand, he couldn’t even think about moving without risking his internal equilibrium. Too much shifting around would tip everything in the wrong direction. Forced to stay put, he clung to the water bottle, screwed his eyes shut, and hoped that they’d carry the conversation away from him.

They didn’t. If anything, their voices got louder. “What has he done?” Ellen demanded.

“Seems that a while back he suggested that Jack and Cas were so eager to pay for everything because Dean was willing to sleep with them.”

“He said that to Dean?”

“Yeah. We got a bigger problem though. He’s not convinced that Cas and Jack aren’t taking advantage of Dean.”

“Was he watching them last night? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone treat Dean that well. Course it would help if he’d ever brought anyone else around,” Ellen said.

“I know,” Bobby said. “You should have seen the look Jack got in his eye when we figured out that Sam had been such an ass. Not even John got that protective over Dean.”

“It’s a beautiful summer morning. Let’s not waste time on what a loser John Winchester was.”

“Ellen—”

“We’ve gone over it. He might’ve loved them, but he screwed them up. Especially Dean.”

“Ain’t that what all parents do to their kids?” Bobby asked.

“You telling me there’s something wrong with Jo?”

“No ma’am.”

“Damn straight,” Ellen muttered. In a louder voice, she continued, “So, what specifically did Sam say last night?”

“I already chewed him out for it.”

“Did he apologize? Bobby, just tell me.”

“Fine. He said Dean better be saving up the money they’re giving him because he won’t be that pretty forever. Damn fool was drunk enough that he almost said the word whore during our little discussion.”

Blood pounded in Castiel’s ears so loudly that he couldn’t hear what Ellen’s response was. Sam had insulted Dean twice on the same subject. No wonder Dean had said little about his brother. The accusation that the only thing changing between them was money flat out hurt. Castiel was only trying to help Dean find his way. Someone had to. Why not him and Jack? Especially since Dean was so happy with them. The money was secondary. A necessity for living. And Dean had fought that as much as he could. Felt shitty for taking it.

Castiel managed to get to his feet. He had to talk to Sam about this. Confront him about the ludicrous assumptions. His feet carried him across the yard with only a minimal amount of sway. Though Jack saw him coming, Castiel made it clear that he was aiming to get to Sam. All along the way, Castiel practiced what he was going to say to Sam.

At the last second, Castiel tripped and Sam managed to catch him. “Whoa there,” Sam said. “You okay?”

Castiel opened his mouth, ready to let Sam hear what he thought.

And his gut rebelled. Bile and sickness rolled up his throat and out his mouth. It splattered all over Sam’s shirt, his pants, his shoes. Sam jerked away and Castiel fell onto his knees, barely avoiding landing right in the puke pile. At least he was feeling a measure of relief.

 

***

 

Jack had froze when he spotted Cas coming across the yard with such a determined look on his face. Only a few minutes before, Cas’s hangover had seemed so bad that Jack was worried they wouldn’t be able to drive back to the city. Then Cas had grabbed onto Sam after Sam caught him.

And then he had puked everywhere. Jo and Dean had stopped picking up the trash and stared as Sam stepped away with a disgusted noise. Jack was on the verge of laughing, but Cas fell and concern took over. He dropped the garbage bag and bent down next to him. The color had bled out of Cas’s face. Getting rid of the puke should have brought the color back, but instead he’d gotten worse. Jack gently laid a hand on his back and rubbed a slow and gentle down his spine. “Dean, get a cold washcloth and a bottle of water.”

Dean didn’t stick around to question the order. Jo put her garbage bag down. “Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’ll be fine in a few hours,” Jack replied. “He’d appreciate a little space.”

“I’m happy to give it to him,” Sam said with an edge in his voice. He pulled the shirt off carefully and turned up his nose. “I’m taking a shower.”

“I’m going to see if I can’t find something more to help,” Jo said.

Both of them took off for the house.

Jack continued to rub a long, slow pattern on Cas’s back. Sure enough, a moment later, Jack felt Cas’s muscles tense and more vomit rolled out of him. “You should have stayed on the porch,” Jack said quietly.

“Heard Bobby and Ellen talking. About Sam. Dean.” More puke.

“So you came out here to yell at Sam? About Dean?”

Cas nodded.

Jack managed to bite back the laugh, though he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice. “You threw up on him.”

Cas closed his eyes. Clearly, the guy was feeling embarrassed, but at least the color was coming back to his cheeks. “I’m aware.”

“All over him.”

“I know,” Cas groaned.

Dean jogged back over to them. He knelt down on Cas’s other side and put the wet washcloth on the back of his neck. “Feeling any better?”

“I will when I get away from the vomit. The smell is making me want to do it again,” Cas said.

With Dean’s help, Jack got Cas a few feet away and sitting on the grass again. He brushed his fingers through Cas’s hair. “We should get you in the shade.”

“In a minute. The breeze feels good.”

“What the hell was all this about?” Dean asked.

Jack glanced at Cas, but the other man didn’t look ready to talk yet. Considering the subject was awkward and bound to anger Dean, Jack decided to sidestep all that. “He was looking for me. He just saw someone tall and latched on.”

“Don’t lie,” Cas said sharply. His voice had more gravel than usual. He swung his gaze up from Jack over to Dean. “Your brother made rude remarks about you.”

“Sam was all the way out _here_ ,” Dean said.

“Not now. Last night. Bobby and Ellen were talking about it this morning. Apparently Sam believes I’m supporting you because you’re spreading your legs for us.”

The color drained out of Dean’s face. “He said that? Those words?”

“That was the gist of what I overheard,” Cas replied.

Dean glared at Jack. “And you knew about this?”

“Bobby and I figured out that you weren’t telling us about what happened with Sam,” Jack snapped. “He’s the one who made a guess about what Sam said. Why didn’t you mention it?”

“Because we’re not exactly chatty when it comes to our personal problems, are we?” Dean demanded.

“Please stop,” Cas begged.

“Why?” Dean said.

“Because if my head hurts anymore I might throw up again.”

“You know what? I’ll give you two a little distance. Hopefully everyone will and you can stop sticking your noses in where they don’t belong.” Dean stood up and snatched his garbage bag off the ground.

Jack was caught. He wanted to chase after Dean and figure this problem out, but Cas was obviously still hurting with his hangover. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he could manage to make things better with Dean. He might have been the first one to fall in love with him, but Cas was the one who always understood people’s needs better. Or he seemed to. Cas had miscalculated a few times recently about Jack. _Doesn’t dismiss his usual perceptiveness._

“Go. Talk to him,” Cas rasped.

“You sure?” Jack asked.

“I’ll be right here. I’m sure you’ll see if I get worse again.”

“Don’t be afraid to call out for us.”

Cas nodded tightly and kept a firm grip on the water bottle.

Jack took in a deep breath and headed out across the lawn towards Dean.

 

***

 

Dean shoved a few more Solo cups into the garbage bag and decidedly didn’t look up as Jack neared him. Keeping his back to his lover, Dean said, “What part of distance didn’t you get?”

“Dean—”

“Leave me alone, Jack.”

Jack sighed loudly.

Angered, Dean dropped the bag and spun around. “What goes on between me and Sammy isn’t anyone’s business but ours, got it? So what if he was an ass? He’s my _brother_ , Jack. Doesn’t give Cas the right to puke all over him as payback.”

“I don’t think he intended to puke at all.”

“Well yelling at him in front of everyone isn’t any better. What the hell was he thinking?”

“That he loves you and that Sam doesn’t have the right to make you feel like shit,” Jack said sharply.

Dean hesitated and he suddenly couldn’t meet Jack’s gaze. There was a protectiveness, a fierceness and Dean didn’t want to admit that he’d seen it. Having them care for him in Manhattan was one thing. Out here, in the heat and the grass and the crappy ‘hometown’ was different. _Why? Because here it can’t be some fantasy?_ Dean shook his head. “You just can’t. Okay? You can’t go around defending me to Sam of all people.”

“Why not? Because it seems to me that you’re not going to stand up to yourself with him.”

“So he doesn’t get it. So what? Shouting and vomiting aren’t going to make him come around. If Bobby can’t change his mind, it’s not going to change. I’m the disappointing one. Way it’s always been.”

Jack’s eyes went wide. “You believe _that_?”

All of a sudden Dean was feeling hot and it didn’t have anything to do with the weather. He felt like a moron for admitting it out loud. “See, this is why I don’t bitch about my problems.”

“Dean—”

Dean grabbed the garbage bag. “Let’s just get this cleaned up. Ellen’s not going to let us leave until we do and I want to get back to the city.”

Jack grabbed him around the waist and made him pause. Resisting, Dean didn’t look up at him until Jack’s grip tightened more. Their bodies pressed together like this was familiar. Nice. Comfortable. Almost enough to take the smarting away from what Sam had said. Dean closed his eyes and leaned against Jack. _Man shouldn’t rely on others to provide for him. Shouldn’t get emotional._ Dean tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. Finally, he let go of the garbage bag and spun around in Jack’s arms.

This was ridiculous, letting his emotions run him over like this. Cas needed Jack more than he did right now. Didn’t make any damn sense, but Dean held onto him anyway. Jack put both arms around him and gently ran a hand along his back. “What are you thinking?” Jack asked.

“I’m not,” Dean muttered.

“Something’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’m being an emotional wuss.” Dean tried to pull away, but Jack tightened his hold.

“Try again,” Jack said.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Do I need to get the handcuffs out of the car and keep you tied up until you talk?”

Dean shook his head. “Look, it’s just Sam being stupid. And I shouldn’t care.”

“He’s your brother. You want his approval.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got Bobby and Ellen and Jo’s, so I don’t know why his matters.”

Jack ducked back a little, catching Dean’s gaze and staring him straight in the eye. “Because you’re still hurting over a lot of things. And Sam’s your blood. It’s different.”

“Doesn’t make it any less stupid.” Dean tugged his way out of Jack’s arms. “Just forget about it, okay? Sam will come around or he won’t. Shouldn’t let it bother me.”

Even though Jack finally got back to work, Dean didn’t feel like the conversation was over. It settled uneasily in his stomach, creating a knot that edged on panic. _Don’t you dare freak out over nothing._ He tried convincing himself it was the hangover and the heat, but honestly, he hated not knowing what was coming next. Worse, he had this gut feeling that Jack planned on having words with Sam and Dean couldn’t see that going well. _You don’t want to choose_ , a small voice in the back of his head said.

No, if it came down to it, if Sam made demands, Dean knew what he’d wind up choosing. And he didn’t want what he had with Cas and Jack to be over yet.


	56. Kissing

Breakfast was an awkward disaster and Dean was half-tempted to make any excuse to get back outside to work. They’d gotten most of the big stuff, but there had to be smaller pieces of trash they’d missed. Like cigarette butts. Stray beer cans. Anything. Anything that got him out and away from Sam and Jack.

Because there was obviously some anger going on there. Sam was doing his best to hide it and so was Jack, but Dean knew them both too well. Sam’s smiles were tight, Jack’s had that predator gleam. _Someone just shoot me._ Dean was the first to volunteer for kitchen duty and thankfully Jack wanted to go take care of Cas.

“I feel bad about your boyfriend,” Jo said as she dumped a plate into the sink. “If I’d known he couldn’t handle it, I would’ve stopped. 

“Cas is a big boy. He knows his limits,” Dean replied. Bobby’s house didn’t have a dishwasher, which was just fine by Dean. The big meal would take a while to clean up. Maybe by the time he was done, Cas would feel better and they could take off for Manhattan. He didn’t want to have the impending conversation with Sam. Had to be some way to avoid it altogether.

Unless, of course, Jo excused herself to go help Ellen with opening the Roadhouse and Bobby went into his study to deal with the junkyard’s financials. That left Sam to join Dean in dish duty and while Dean could manage it all himself, he’d only cause a fight if he told Sam to leave it now.

They started work in silence, but Dean knew that couldn’t last. Never would with Sammy. And sure enough, about five minutes in, Sam cleared his throat. “You’re tense.”

“Yeah, well, seems like people are riding you about me and my boyfriend vomited on you. None of which I wanted.”

“You were happy last night.”

Dean shrugged. “It was a good party.” He reached over to grab a plate.

Except Sam wasn’t letting it go. He had that judging look on his face—like he was running calculations on everything he’d seen and trying to fit it all into one big puzzle. Not wanting to encourage analysis, Dean looked away and yanked on the plate. Thankfully, Sammy let it go. Unfortunately, he dug into the topic some more. “You really are in love with both of them. Equally?”

Okay, Dean wasn't quite there with Cas, but he liked him. A lot. And anything he'd do for Jack, he'd do for Cas. “Course.”

“But if you had to choose, who would it be?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Neither, Sam. I’d never pick one over the other because that’s not how we work. We’re happy as a three.”

“And you’re into dudes now?”

“Jesus, Sam! This isn’t that hard.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Sam said. “I mean, we lived together Dean. Just us and the Impala for _years_ and you never said a word about liking guys.”

Dean shrugged. “Knew how Dad felt about it. Guess I didn’t want to risk you feeling the same.”

“Dad knew?”

“Yeah, and let’s just say he wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing now.”

“Come on, Dean. He would’ve wanted you to be happy,” Sam said.

A wry, broken grin crossed Dean’s lips. “Naw. Not like this. Not the handouts, not the men. None of it.”

“Well, it’s stupid that you thought I’d react like Dad.”

Dean dumped a dish back into the sudsy sink and turned to glare at Sam. “You want to tell me exactly what you’ve been doing differently than him?”

“I’m just worried that they’re taking advantage of you.”

“They’re not. I can leave any time I want. Don’t have to do a damn thing I don’t want to. I get to room with an international supermodel because she’s freaking lonely and spend the weekends with two incredibly hot, sexy men. Only thing missing in my life is a freaking job, which I wouldn’t have if I was anywhere else anyway. If anything, I’m the one taking advantage of _them._ So get off your high horse, Mr. Student Loans and Scholarships. Not everyone defines their lives by getting the career and the wife and kids with a house in the freaking suburbs.”

Sam stared at him for a long moment and Dean was sure he’d said something wrong. _Stick to it this time. Don’t fucking cave now._ Dean focused on breathing. He wouldn’t let himself breakdown. But goddamn if Sam didn’t say something soon, this knot in Dean’s stomach was about to become permanent.

“You’re right, Dean. I’m sorry,” Sam said.

Dean nodded, determined not to do or say anything more about it. He went back to washing the dishes. _Oh hell, we’re already here. Might as well talk about it._ “You gotta stop glaring at Jack like that.”

“He started it,” Sam replied.

“Oh, bullshit.”

“He did! I don’t know what his problem is.”

Dean sighed loudly. “He knows about the whore commentary.”

“Dean, I never called you—”

“Close enough to everyone but you,” Dean said sharply.

Sam sighed loudly. “Well, I’m sorry for that too.” He set a plate on the counter beside Dean. “Do I have to go say that to them too?”

“Might prevent any more puke mishaps.”

Sam snorted. “Be worth it.”

“He’s not normally such a lush. Think Jo went overboard on him.”

“Think?” Sam scoffed.

“Hey, I’m remembering a certain Christmas Eve a few years ago where she got you pretty good,” Dean said with a smirk.

“All right, all right. I’ll cut him some slack.” Sam chuckled.

They set into an easy rhythm and Dean felt a whole world better about how things were going. The tense knot that had formed up in his stomach dissolved as he and Sam squared away the dishes. He could almost convince himself that this was like old times, but he didn’t really want to do that. Days gone by, he wouldn’t be where he was now. And Dean was really beginning to like his life.

 

*************

 

After tucking Cas back into bed—all right, not so much tucking as making sure he had a trashcan and plenty of water—Jack went back downstairs. Only time, fluids, and rest would get Cas through this massive hangover. Nothing he could do would help and he couldn’t bear to stand around feeling useless, so he headed to the kitchen. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs when he heard Dean’s voice. Sounded like he was talking to Sam. Bits of their conversation floated out to Jack.

“Rude to eavesdrop,” Bobby said quietly from his desk.

As if Bobby couldn’t hear everything from his position. He was more in line with the kitchen, and judging from the soft tone, Jack was willing to guess that anyone in the kitchen would be able to hear them as well. Jack drifted over to the living room and sank onto the low, old leather couch. “How’s it going in there?”

“Good. Dean’s working through it with him. I thought I was going to have to lock ‘em in a room together.”

“How did your talk with Sam go last night?” Jack asked.

“Doesn’t matter. Problem’s being solved.”

Jack frowned. “Meaning there was a problem last night?”

Bobby scowled over at him. “I’m having enough trouble with these damn books. Don’t need to be sticking my nose into it anymore. I love ‘em, but these two are figuring out. Nothing else really matters to me.”

“You thought they had everything figured out before,” Jack said.

“Fair point, but I also know them well enough to know the difference this time. Besides, I heard more of it than you. They’re fine without my interference.”

Jack nodded and then began feeling entirely useless as Bobby went back to his work. Everyone was busy but him. He could head into the kitchen and help the other two, but they seemed to need the brotherly bonding time.

“Got any family?” Bobby asked.

“Hm?”

“I realized I don’t know much about you. Dean’s never mentioned it.”

 _Dean’s never asked_. Jack tapped his fingers against the arm rest and refused to glance Bobby’s way. The man struck him as one of those with an uncanny bullshit detector. Easier to get around that by not talking at all. Bobby’s chair creaked, though, which meant that he was only causing more interest by talking, not less. Jack breathed out a long sigh. “I don’t talk about them.”

Jack risked a glance at Bobby, who surprisingly looked understanding despite his curiosity. Bobby shuffled a few papers and dropped his gaze, making his next words seem more thrown out there for the hell of it instead the serious request. “If you don’t mind my asking, why not?”

“My parents died when I was a teenager and my—” Jack had nearly let the words spill without a second thought. Even Cas didn’t know this part—he hadn’t even talked about it with Ianto. But not talking, not dealing with his emotions was how he’d wound up on the floor of a BDSM club, how things had gone so wrong with Cas. Jack flicked his gaze back to Bobby again. Saying it once might help him talk about it some other time. Jack cleared his throat. “My brother’s in an institution. The kind he’ll never check out from.” Before Bobby could press for more answers, Jack decided to ask some of his own. “You mentioned something odd last night. Dean’s dad practically ruined their lives for some mission? What mission?”

Bobby gave an uneasy glance towards the kitchen. “Really isn’t my story to tell.”

Jack chalked it up to something he and Dean would have to talk about—and something he should tell Cas about so the three of them could have that conversation without blinding the other man. He honestly didn’t know that much about Dean’s life before they’d met, though he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with details. Too used to the secrecy to think he’d ever get to know anyone else.

“It’s a little complicated,” Bobby said. He must have thought Jack’s silence had to do with what he’d said, which it had and hadn’t.

Jack waved a hand. “I get it. There’s a lot of sections of my life I couldn’t tell Dean if I wanted to.”

“Oh?”

“Complicated is one word for them. Classified’s another.”

Bobby did another once over. “Military?”

“Recruited out of boot camp to one of those organizations that won’t confirm I worked for them,” Jack said.

“Well, at least if Dean runs into trouble in Manhattan, you’ll be able to back him up.”

“Anyone messes with Dean and they’ll regret it the rest of their lives.”

Bobby grinned. “I’d offer you a drink, but it’s a little early in the day for that.”

“Never too early,” Dean said as he walked into the room. He was drying his hands off on a towel. Relaxed and smiling, Dean was _hot_. There was a light in his green eyes that Jack had only gotten glimpses of in the bedroom, and his old, frayed jeans were clinging to his hips. The t-shirt he had on was showing signs of sweat and Jack was eager to get closer. Something about Dean always smelled like leather. He was gorgeous in every way.

Dean’s cheeks pinked and he coughed, dropping his gaze to the towel in his hands. Sober Dean always had to fuss with something when he was flustered. “Hey Jack, got something I want to show you outside.”

Jack grinned and rose from the couch. Sam was walking into the room though, and he frowned at the two of them. “What are you talking about?”

“Sam, will you help me with the damn bills before I use them for kindling?” Bobby asked.

“But what’s he going to show—”

Dean was turning a brighter shade of red, which only worsened when Jack slipped his arm around Dean’s waist. Suddenly bashful, Dean stepped away quickly and Jack had to bite back a laugh. That earned him a half-hearted glare. Grinning broadly now, Jack said to Sam, “Don’t worry about it.”

They were on their way to the back door when Jack overheard Sam’s loud, “Oh.”

Jack laughed as Dean grabbed his hand and tugged him back out into the bright sunlight. Dean turned and pushed him up against the house. He pressed his mouth against Jack’s in a fierce kiss, able to slip inside because Jack was still laughing. The laugh changed to a quick and quiet moan as Dean’s tongue explored. When the kiss finally ended, they were panting. Jack’s arms were around Dean’s waist and their mouths were still close.

Despite the muggy heat, Dean shivered against Jack as their gazes met again. “You gotta stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Jack murmured. The leather and musky scent that was entirely Dean filled his nose, but it wasn’t enough. Jack ducked in and kissed Dean’s neck.

Dean tilted his head and his hands clenched onto Jack’s shoulders. “Like you’re deciding between fucking me or—fuck, I don’t know.”

Jack nipped right at the crux of Dean’s neck, which made him groan. “Try to explain it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

Jack twisted them so that he had Dean pinned against the house. He caught his wrists and held them up over his head. Using Dean’s surprise at the shift, Jack slid his leg in between his lover’s. “Come on,” he teased. “Say it.”

There was hesitation in Dean’s green eyes. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and dropped his gaze away until Jack tightened his grip. They kissed, slow and steady this time. When they broke away, Dean could look Jack in the eyes. “Like you’re falling in love with me again.”

“What if I’m doing both? Wanting to fuck you and falling in love with you?” Jack murmured.

“God I hope so. I can’t imagine life without you or Cas right now,” Dean said.

“Good, because I think I’ve been passing Bobby’s little tests.”

Dean rolled his hips against Jack, pressing his erection into him. “Can we not talk?”

Jack ground back down at him and Dean’s head went back against the house as he moaned. “Eager?”

“It’s been a week,” Dean said with a shaky breath. “And someone said no last night.”

“Because two people were very drunk.”

“Okay, fair. But _fuck—_ ”

Jack had known what he meant and chose to press his own erection in against Dean’s, driving him speechless. Then he kissed him again until they were nearly breathless. “We’re out in the open.”

Dean pushed Jack back lightly and grabbed his hand. “Come on. I know a spot.”


	57. Chapter 57

This was fucking crazy. Dean had meant to be joking when he told Bobby he’d take his lovers into the garage if he wanted some alone time, but there wasn’t another good place. Ellen would get pissed if he used the Roadhouse and with Cas still hungover-sick in about the only bed Dean didn’t feel dirty screwing around in, the garage was the last resort. He tugged Jack close as he swept the door shut behind them. 

The air in the garage was thick with summer heat and humidity, so Dean wasted no time getting his shirt off. He’d have done it even if Jack wasn’t groping him like this, pushing him back all the way into the Impala’s hood. Dean pulled at Jack’s shirt. They briefly broke contact as Jack yanked his shirt off. Their skin was already slick with sweat and Jack just smelled so damn good. Something Dean didn’t care about defining right now. What mattered was getting Jack in close, grinding up against him and watching those blue eyes flutter shut. A moan parted Jack’s lips and Dean seized the chance to thrust his tongue in. 

Jack chuckled and broke the kiss, though he hovered right over Dean’s lips. “Someone’s eager.”

“I’m horny, sue me,” Dean said. He leaned in for another kiss, but Jack ducked away. When he went for more, Jack pinned his hips up against the side of the car. “What the hell?”

Jack grinned. “Do you even have lube?”

Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and pulled the small bottle out of his back pocket. “I’m might’ve been hoping for something.”

Jack took the bottle from him. “Only hoping?”

“Might’ve been a fantasy or two.” Dean kept his focus on Jack’s lips because looking anywhere else was too dangerous. His cock was already hard.

So when Jack palmed it, Dean groaned and grabbed the other man’s shoulders. Jack’s hand was firm, solidly running up and down the length of Dean’s jean-covered crotch. Dean wrapped his arms around Jack and took the damn kiss he wanted this time.

“Dean?” Ellen’s voice shattered the silence of their breathing. “Dean?”

“Fuck,” Dean whispered. He moaned quietly against Jack’s lips.

“Ignore her,” Jack replied.

“Dean?”

“Damn it.” Dean broke out of Jack’s hold and grabbed his t-shirt.

And was lucky enough to get it up over his crotch before Ellen walked into the garage. He gaped at her, she blinked at the two of them. “Looks like I’m interrupting something.”

“It’s okay. Just getting to work on the car,” Dean lied.

Jack fucking laughed. Dean could’ve turned around and killed him. This situation wasn’t that funny.

“Well I could use your help cleaning up the Roadhouse. Seems as you guys were partying, you decided to leave the place a total disaster,” Ellen said sharply. When only Dean moved forward to leave the garage, she pointed at Jack. “You too.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jack’s voice had a pleased purr in it.

“Don’t ma’am me. I can’t be that much older than you.” All three of them left the garage.

Which was a curveball for Dean. He hadn’t really thought about ages and birthdays. Or their families. Cas and Jack had those, right? They never talked about them. Ever. Dean frowned over at Jack. “How old are you?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Ellen said.

“Why? You do?” Dean snapped.

“Don’t get moody with me, boy.”

Jack was holding in chuckles as they followed Ellen across the yard to the Roadhouse’s back door. Once inside the door, Dean grabbed Jack’s arm. “Wait, you didn’t answer me.”

Jack glanced to see that Ellen was already going into her office and then said quietly, “Forty-two.”

Dean’s brow shot up. He’d figured both Cas and Jack were older than him, but that put Jack closer to Ellen’s age than his own. Which wasn’t something that he’d ever thought about. And he wasn’t really that bothered by it, just surprised. Jack didn’t seem that old. Not that forty-two was all that old, not really. 

With a frown, Jack asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just, sort of realizing how little we know about each other.”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Jack said.

“Maybe the three of us should do something, you know. Less sex, more bonding.”

Jack chuckled, put his hand on Dean’s hip. “I thought we were doing plenty of ‘bonding.’”

Dean flushed and lightly pushed Jack away. “You fucking know what I mean.”

“I do. And it’s not a bad idea.”

“There is a distinct lack of glasses getting picked up,” Ellen said from the office.

“Right,” Dean called back. He nodded down the hall at the main barroom. “Come on.”

And all while he helped clean up, Dean mused over how to draw his lovers into a serious conversation. Wasn’t like they avoided them, except they kind of did. None of them had exactly opened up about themselves. Sure, he knew Jack liked to be held when they fell asleep, that Cas could never get enough smelling them right after a shower. Jack liked wearing blue. Cas got grumpy without vegetables on the dinner menu. Little every day things piled up enough that Dean was sure he _knew_ them, he just didn’t know much _about_ them. 

Actually, thinking on it, he didn’t want to change that either. Even though he’d said they ought to, he didn’t want what was happening between them to change. If they found out about Azazel, about some of the stuff Dean had done, he wasn’t sure they’d feel the same about him. He finished filling up a tray with glasses and spun towards the kitchen.

Jack was sweeping out from under the bar. Just normal, every day kind of stuff. But there’d been hints dropped here and there. Something about a mission, where he’d lost Ianto. Being qualified for security work. Yeah, it was entirely possible that Jack’s past was steeped in dark deeds as well. That wouldn’t wind up changing how Dean felt about the guy, right? Jack glanced up from his work and the smile faded off into a concerned frown. “Something wrong?”

“Naw,” Dean said, picking up his rhythm again. He grabbed the last of the glasses from the tables and headed for the kitchen with one tray balanced on his hand and the last glass in his free hand.

Despite Dean being loaded down with that much glassware, Jack set aside the broom and lightly put his hand around Dean’s waist. “What?”

“Now? Can’t afford to break all this.” Dean refused to meet Jack’s gaze.

“What’s up with you? Your mood shifted.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to get this crap done before they open in an hour and you’re stalling around.” Dean regretted the sharp tone in his voice, but the words were out. The hurt look was already on Jack’s face. As his lover drifted away, Dean wanted to grab him back, but his hands were full. Jack grabbed the broom and the moment cemented between them. Dean’s throat tightened. Apologies weren’t easy.

“Dean! Are you bringing those glasses or what?” Jo demanded.

“I’m coming,” Dean snarled back. He stormed back towards the kitchen.

Shit, now he felt like a giant dick and the ride back to Manhattan was going to suck if he didn’t do something to fix this. He had to come up with something really good. And fast.

 

***

“Please?” Dean said.

Castiel stole a sip of water out of his glass. Personally, he didn’t have an issue spending a few more hours here instead of rushing back to the city. He felt like an ass for being sick all day, but the rest meant he was able to tolerate the sounds inside the Roadhouse. He hadn’t been so fortunate at lunch. The low chatter and clinking of dishes had set off another headache.

Somewhere in the day, he’d missed something important. Jack was colder towards Dean than usual and for some reason Dean had a note of pleading to his voice. Like he was trying to make up for something without directly bringing up the problem. They had fought, or perhaps not quite fought. Castiel set down the glass of water and picked at the fries. At least he was keeping something down now, even if it was greasy.

“It’s a few hours back. I’ve got work in the morning,” Jack said.

“I could drive that monstrosity you guys brought. You could sleep in the back. Come on, I’ve got something I want to show you,” Dean said.

Jack glanced over to Castiel and he knew that Jack wanted him to make the final call. Castiel dropped his gaze to his plate of food, more as a dramatic gesture than avoiding them. “I wouldn’t mind, but the two of you need to settle this tension before I get into a car with either of you.”

“What tension?” Jack asked.

Castiel flatly glared at him. “I was certain I was dating two grown men, not children. What happened?”

“We were fine and Dean suddenly bit my head off,” Jack said.

“Hey, to be fair, I had like three hundred dollars worth of glassware.” Dean dropped his eyes in a guilty look when Castiel turned his head towards him. “Okay, maybe not three hundred. But it was a lot. And he was getting handsy.”

Castiel glanced between them. “Is this seriously why we’ve been eating dinner in silence?”

Dean slowly swallowed the bite of burger he’d nabbed. “Um, maybe.”

“I suddenly don’t feel like a moron for having such a bad hangover,” Castiel said.

Jack’s expression darkened. Dean flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and then wiped at his mouth. They were, however, still annoyingly silent. 

After shoving his plate away, Castiel leaned against the table. “I was serious. I’m not going anywhere until the two of you figure this out.”

“We don’t need you to talk to us like we’re twelve,” Jack said.

Castiel continued to stare at him, devoid of expression. Something was going on, possibly something more. _I thought we were through this_. But whatever the new ‘this’ was, Castiel realized he wasn’t the direct cause. This new problem was entirely between Jack and Dean.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said quickly, leaning in towards Jack. “Okay?”

Jack sighed. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. At least now the oppressive cloud between the three of them was lifting. “Where did you plan on taking us?” Castiel asked.

“Just a quick drive. Baby could use a little road time before getting put back in storage.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to bring your car to the city?” Castiel said.

“Can’t afford to yet,” Dean replied. And then he was up and taking away their finished plates before Castiel had a chance to push the issue. 

“Are you all right?” Castiel asked Jack.

“Fine. Just had plenty of time to think today.”

“About what?”

Jack took a long drink of his water and shook his head. “Not everything has to be shared, Cas.”

“I’d like to know if something is upsetting you.”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” Jack said. “It’s been a long day.”

“If you’re genuinely not up for Dean’s surprise—”

“It’s fine. We came out here for him, didn’t we?”

Castiel slowly linked his fingers in Jack’s. “We came out here to be together. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to stress you.”

“I’m sure Dean can drive us home. Probably better than I can.”

“Your driving isn’t _that—_ ”

Jack laughed. “You griped the door the whole way here.”

Castiel snorted.

Dean sidled back up to the table and leaned down. “We come to a decision?”

“I’d like to see this surprise,” Castiel said.

“But let’s get the SUV packed up so we can leave right after,” Jack replied.

“Smart move. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to grab everything,” Dean said.

“Do we need to settle up the check?” Castiel asked as he stood.

“Naw. Ellen owed me some for a couple of shifts I picked up this last week.”

Dean shouldn’t have paid for this. He was already too broke. When Castiel opened his mouth to say something, Jack squeezed his hand tight. Right, of course. Dean’s pride was a fragile thing. Better to let him have this tiny thing. “Well, thank you then.”

“No problem.”

They went out through the back door of the Roadhouse. Castiel still had hold of Jack’s hand and that wasn’t enough. He checked around them for any potential witnesses, but they were alone in the backyard. In a subtle move, he slipped his hand into Dean’s. For a second, Castiel thought he’d ruined everything. Dean stiffened. After he did a double-check, he relaxed and tightened his grip on Castiel. The three of them were together, the night was cloudless and cooler than the day. Castiel couldn’t wait to see what Dean had in store.


	58. Out in the woods

Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. Didn’t matter that the car radio wasn’t on, there was a nervous tension running up and down his spine and he had to get it out somehow. Jack and Cas were in their seats relaxing and enjoying the view, though Dean caught Jack’s sidelong glance at his fingers. Okay, so either the man was figuring out that something still wasn’t quite sitting right with Dean or his mind was filling up with fantasies. Probably the first. Jack had been on edge since Dean’s brush off that morning.

Why the hell couldn’t he ever say sorry in the moment? Was it a guy thing? Winchester problem? Or just him? _And now I’m getting self-centered_.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Cas said.

The road wound through the trees as they crested the top of another hill. This time of year, everything was in full summer color. Dean turned down a small dirt road and prayed that they wouldn’t come across any other cars. This spot could get popular with the local kids—hell, that’s how he’d found out about it back in the day—but hopefully they were all still busy from the holiday weekend and hadn’t made it out here.

They broke through the forest into the small clearing beside the lake. The moon was high and reflecting onto the mass of dark water. Dean parked in the tiny ass lot beside it. Really, this place wasn’t that damn impressive. Jack and Cas weren’t going to be thrilled. They were big city guys who’d probably globe trotted. One itty bitty lake out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere wasn’t that exciting. And Jesus, he’d tried to talk it up. But all he could focus on was the couple of empty beer cans off in the grass and the dumpy size of the place. They should’ve just gone back to the city.

As they swung the doors shut to the Impala, Dean was tempted to tell them to get back in. Before he got a word out, Jack slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean. “It’s nice out here.”

“Quiet, and stunning,” Cas said as he walked towards the shoreline.

And there was something about seeing Cas appreciate this, watching him kneel down next to the water and look out over the lake, that made the whole damn trip worth it. Dean sighed and leaned back against Jack. “I really am sorry ‘bout earlier. I just sort of freaked.”

“Another panic attack?” Jack turned them so Dean had to lean back against the car. Suddenly Cas was paying attention to them too and that was getting to be a bit much for Dean. “We were the only ones in the bar. If they’re getting that bad—”

“It wasn’t that, at least not the usual kind. I realized there was some shit in my past that I don’t know if I ever want you to find out. I like us. I like the way we are. The three of us finally got things figured out, you know? I don’t want to screw that up.”

Jack smirked at him and he had such a patronizing look in his eye that something in Dean’s gut twisted. “It’s cute you think that’s possible.”

“He has a point,” Cas said. When Dean shot him a frown, Cas shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure we’ve all done things we regret.”

“I’m not talking regret, I’m talking down right _wrong_ ,” Dean replied.

Jack pursed his lips. “I’m sure whatever you’ve—”

“My brother and I killed a guy.”

They went as still and quiet as the lake, all except for Dean’s heart, which he swore was beating loud enough for everyone to hear. Cas’s gravely voice broke the silence. “Why?”

“Because the son of a bitch murdered our mom and a bunch of other people. He got off on killing and arson and nobody was willing to keep him in jail,” Dean said. The words pouring out of him were a freaking relief on one hand, a potential death sentence to their relationship on the other. He kept watching both of them carefully, but nobody was really doing anything yet.

Jack was the first to move. He stepped away, turning his back to Dean and walking towards the water. “And that’s what you think makes you so terrible?”

“It’s freaking _murder_. I don’t believe that’s a good thing, yeah.”

Silence crashed back around them. The night was hot and sticky, causing Dean’s t-shirt to cling. Sweating was making it worse, but there was nothing he could do about that. The distance between him and Jack felt like a gaping canyon instead of a few feet, but Dean couldn’t make himself close it. Jack’s shoulders were a taut line, his back rigid.

Dean had done _exactly_ what he’d been hoping to avoid. He wiped a hand down his face and managed to hold off the tears. No way was he crying out here about this. That would be just freaking stupid. He gave a ragged sigh. “I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.”

“It’s not you,” Cas said.

“Hell it isn’t,” Jack snapped. He spun back around and there was a darkness in his eyes, something Dean had never seen before. “You were scared a little justified murder was going to make us hate you?” His body language shifted, becoming predatory and stalkerish. As he closed in again, Dean reflexively took a few steps back. “You think that’s the worst thing any of us have done?”

And suddenly Cas was between them. Hand on Jack’s chest, he was ready to push, but he wasn’t doing so yet. “Calm down.”

Jack glared at him. “He’s being naive and selfish.”

“This behavior is bordering on abusive. I will not be part of a relationship which condones intimidation stemming from anger. None of us should ever instill fear in the others.”

Both men seemed solid, unbending, but Jack broke off the staring contest first. He met Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Dean had about thirty questions for what just happened, and he was trying to not feel the sudden cold running down his spine. Wasn’t like him to shirk away. Well, okay, he had with Dad a few times. And that one time with Sam. He cleared his throat, shoved thoughts of other scary nights out of his head. “It’s okay. Just didn’t realize I was pushing.”

“It’s not okay,” Cas said. “You had no way of knowing what his reaction would be, but that can hardly condone Jack’s attitude.”

“Yeah, well, he’s got a decade on me right?” That awkward joker’s grin spread across Dean’s lip. “Guy’s bound to see more evil than me.”

And the tension between them shot back up. Jack pushed past Cas, but Cas clung onto his arm and kept him still. “See? See! You don’t have the first clue what I’ve done with my life. If you believe that what you’ve done is so _terrible_ , there’s no way you can accept what I’ve done.”

“Jack—”

“Don’t try to rein me in like this, Cas. He opened the door.”

Screw being scared. He was in love with the guy, right? Love meant being able to accept a partner, being able to get over a few hurdles. Dean lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “He’s right. Let him talk.”

Cas shot a glance over his shoulder. “You’re sure.”

 _We’re already here._ “Yeah. Come on, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, Jack?”

Apparently that wasn’t the question on Jack’s mind ‘cause he was suddenly startled. He bounced his focus between Cas and Dean without really settling on either of them. But no words were coming out of him. Jack frowned, looking away.

Dean sauntered closer. One second of backbone and Jack seemed to have broke. “If I’m so naive and selfish, do something to fix it. Tell me what I don’t know. If we’re going to test us, let’s get fucking over it already. I watched you two play games for weeks, and I’ll be damned if we head down the same path. So go on. Tell me what’s so terrible that you’ve done.”

Jack looked wary, but they were all of them backed into a corner now. No way out but through, both of them had to be thinking it. “I’ve tortured and killed and not for any higher reason like vengeance, but because that was the orders. And then when I quit that, I was a conman, for years. Didn’t matter who I was taking the money from so long as I got paid at the end of the day.”

Dean was trying not to let this get under his skin, if nothing else because Jack expected it to. Naw, had to be a way around this awkward confession and he realized that hearing this hadn’t changed shit about how he felt. He was still hoping the night would end in a big cuddle fest back at their place. But that wasn’t so easy to say, not when Jack was still so upset. Dean frowned and ran his bottom lip through his teeth. “Orders? Like, military?”

“Like wetworks.”

“But they were orders, not your choice.”

Jack shrugged and there was something broken in his eyes. Like facing this was causing his soul to shatter. “That didn’t stop me from getting good at it.”

Dean wished the sand would open up and swallow him. Dragging all this up was his own damn fault and now Jack was on the verge of breaking. Fuck, there wasn’t anything he could say. In a desperate attempt, he locked eyes with Cas, but he looked just as clueless too. What the hell were they going to do? Ignoring this meant giving it the damn weight of guilt Jack believed it needed and saying anything else was going to be cliche or stupid, but he didn’t have any other options. _Damn it, why do I have to be the saint and figure this out? I’m too stupid for this crap._

“I knew,” Cas said in a voice so soft Dean thought he was hallucinating at first. Both he and Jack whipped their attention back to him and Cas broke his eye contact with Dean to look at Jack. “I’ve known nearly the whole time we’ve been together. The Angels gave me detailed files.”

“This whole time?” Jack asked.

“And it hasn’t mattered to me. Who you are is more complex than a list of your past deeds. I wouldn’t want you in my life if I thought for a moment you weren’t kind or compassionate. I know you, both of you. You are good men and I refuse to allow this to alter our relationship.”

Once again, seemed like neither Jack or Dean had a frigging clue what to say. Dean couldn’t stop staring at Cas. This blatant acceptance was easier than Dean had anticipated, but weird all the same. Cas knew everything and he just _didn’t care_.

“Is the lake safe?” Cas asked.

The question was so jarring Dean had to blink a couple of times. “Huh?”

“Could we go into the water?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine. Assuming the area’s asshats haven’t left a crap ton of garbage around.”

“Good.” Cas headed for the water, pausing long enough on the shore to strip off his clothes. He didn’t look back at them, but Dean wasn’t minding that so much. In fact, he reached over and turned on the Imapala’s headlights. If anybody asked, he was going to claim he’d done it for safety, though judging from the small grin Cas shot over his shoulder, Dean figured he was fine.

As Cas edged his way into the water, Jack turned towards Dean. “Are we okay?”

“I feel like I should be asking that,” Dean murmured. He took Jack’s hand and laced their fingers together. “That a good sign or bad?”

“I think it’s supposed to be good.”

“Then let’s make it that way.” Dean squeezed Jack’s hand once before letting go. He pulled off his t-shirt. “I’m tired of being this freaking hot. I’m getting in the water.”

A smirk teased Jack’s lips up. “You know a little water isn’t going to change that, right?”

“The lake’s got to be at least—” _That is not what he’s talking about._ Another kind of heat flared through Dean as he felt one of those full body flushes coming on. Jack laughed in that beautiful note of his and Dean had a hard time with his buckle for a second. As he finally finished shucking his clothes, he said, “You coming?”

Jack’s grin only grew bigger and Dean rolled his eyes. _But hey, at least we’re going to be fine._


	59. Chapter 59

_A few weeks passed._

Seven o’clock. Castiel was grabbed his trench coat from the back of his chair and rushed out of the office door. He had meant to leave half an hour ago, but the work had distracted him. Now he would have to hurry and hope that he didn’t miss his opportunity.

“Castiel.” Uriel stepped out from his office with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his lips. “Finally finished?”

Castiel shoved his arms into the trench coat. “Unfortunately not, but there’s nothing more I can do until the market opens in the morning.”

“You could assist Samandriel.”

“I’m sure he has everything in hand.” Castiel headed for the elevator.

Apparently not taking the social cue, Uriel walked along behind him. “More eager for your boys than Heaven’s work?”

“Of course not.”

“I think all this privilege is making you soft.”

Castiel pressed the call button a few times, glancing upwards at the floor indicator. The elevators were far below. _I’ll have to bear Uriel’s presence a little longer_. “That isn’t your judgment to make.”

“It wasn’t a judgment but an observation. Your injuries are healed and yet you have been avoiding field work.”

“I’ve avoided nothing. Raphael has not assigned me any missions.” Blessedly the elevator doors swept open and Castiel stepped inside.

Uriel slammed his hand on the door to keep it open. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time he wants me to assemble a team.”

Castiel glowered at him. Assignments wouldn’t bother him, but having to follow Uriel’s lead after the disaster last time would. His temple hurt, thinking about it, and he itched to grab the pain medication Crowley had supplied him. That was impossible until he left the building. He couldn’t afford the Angels discovering he refused their medication in favor of a demon’s help.

 _You should trust Heaven._ Now his head really did hurt. He winced, turned it into a scowl aimed at Uriel. “You have no authority to keep me. Release the door.”

Uriel chuckled. “All right then. See you tomorrow Castiel.”

 

 

*******

 

Nothing from any potential employers. No emails, no phone calls. Dean wiped a hand over his lips and stared at the phone. His savings had run out earlier this week. Any day the collection agencies were going to call about his credit card. He could either go back to the old fraud schemes he used to run with Dad and Sam to buy some more time, or go admit to Cas and Jack that he couldn’t take care of himself. Dean dragged his tie loose, leaving it hanging a lot like Cas did. Fitting, since it was Cas’s damn tie. _Am I ever going to have anything of my own again?_

“I take it you don’t have any good news,” Trey said as he sat two beers on the table. He retook his seat across from Dean. When Dean pulled out his wallet, Trey waved a hand. “You don’t owe me for it. It would be unfair making you pay for an experiment really. You may not even like it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Dean lifted up the bottle, grateful that Trey wasn’t going to put more stress on his limited funds. “So what’s this one?”

“A brew infused with coffee flavors.”

Dean snorted. “Man, why can’t we ‘experiment’ with the normal stuff?”

“My employer likes to invest in small companies. He pays a nice bonus for finding worthy products.”

“What kind of bonus?” Dean sniffed at the beer. Yuck, this thing did not smell like his kind of thing, but he wasn’t going to turn away free booze.

“Depends on the business. For a microbrew right now, I imagine it’s a few thousand dollars.”

Dean was glad he waited on taking a sip. He cleared his throat. “And you’d get this paycheck, what, soon as he bought it?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal,” Dean said.

“I could give you a cut, if we find something in our adventures,” Trey said.

“What, really?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t be paid for the work you do.”

Dean grinned. “I hardly call drinking every week work.” He took a long swig of the beer, coughing and spitting it out. “Okay, maybe it’s work.”

Trey took a sip and grimaced. “This is terrible. I’ll get us something better to make up for it.”

Meaning Dean got to dwell on his lack of funds again while Trey left the table. By the time he came back, Dean’s mood had soured so much that he thought about leaving the bar entirely. If this time with Trey wasn’t the only thing he established for himself, he would. But Amy hadn’t introduced them, Cas hadn’t pushed them together. His friendship with Trey was all his. _Okay, so I’ve got one thing of my own._

Trey sat back down at the table with two glasses of whiskey. This was worth sticking around. Dean took a sip. “Thanks.”

“I was thinking about bringing this up last week, but you seem so adamant about finding a job without your boyfriend’s help I was loathe to mention it,” Trey said.

“Mention what?” Dean asked.

“My employer is looking for a few more security guards. I don’t know how much experience you have in that kind of work.”

That was almost ironic, considering what Jack and Cas’s relationship used to be. Work was work though, and he couldn’t turn down a chance. “I don’t have any, but I’m good in a fight.”

“Have any with firearms?”

“I’m a fair shot.” _Better than that, but I can’t seem too eager_.

“I’m sure we could swing you an interview.”

A broad smile played out on Dean’s lips. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Here’s to hope, then.” Trey raised his glass.

“Yeah.” Dean clinked his glass against Trey’s and tried to keep that smile on his face. _Because if this doesn’t work out, I don’t know what I’m going to do._

 

*******

 

Wearing a trench coat on a hot summer night made Castiel feel a little obvious, even if he was standing in a shadow between building. Darkness had stolen over the streets a few minutes ago, but he couldn’t afford to step out anywhere near the streetlights. If Dean spotted him, he would have to lie, making everything worse. _Because I shouldn’t be here. Following him like this is a betrayal of his trust. At least, he would see it that way._

But Dean wasn’t the one he didn’t trust. That man siting across from him was an unknown element. _Crowley’s man_. Castiel had good reason to worry, too. Every time he tried to follow the other man after these meet ups, the man slipped away from him. Normal people should not go to such lengths to hide their movements.

“What is this, the fourth time you’ve skulked around their little meetings?” Crowley asked as he walked down the alley.

Castiel pretended as if he knew Crowley had been behind him this entire time, though his attention had been too much forward. Exhibiting any sort of weakness in front of a Demon was a bad idea. He scowled towards the bar. “This isn’t your concern.”

“Bullocks it isn’t. That’s my man in there.”

“And _my_ lover.”

“I told you to keep a tighter leash on him and instead he’s running around half this damn city. You were supposed to stop this bloody job hunt, not try to follow my man.”

Castiel swung around to glare at the shorter man. “You sent him to cozy up to Dean so that he could gain information about me.”

“You’re getting paranoid,” Crowley said. “That’s a good thing except when you’re dealing with me. When it comes to me, you’re a goddamn open book, understand?”

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset. You were supposed to get me those account numbers a week ago.”

Castiel scowled. “I told you, I would give you those numbers when it’s the right time.”

“I can’t magically wave a wand and break into their programs. I have to set up, be poisedto jump at the perfect opportunity to swipe the money from their clutches. A moment too soon and they’ll know we’re onto them. A moment too late, and the Angels carry on their plan for the bloody Apocalypse!”

“If you’re wrong? If Armageddon is years away instead of any day?” Castiel stepped closer to Crowley. “You already have your back door into so many of their computer systems. What happens if you get bored? Or you decide you don’t like our arrangement? How do I know you won’t use those numbers to find others, to take as much as you can now and slip away. The Angels will know where the leak came from and then I will be the one facing their wrath.”

“Then get yourself a fall guy because sooner or later, we will have to act.” Crowley paused a moment. “Don’t tell me you’re holding back because you don’t have a plan for the inevitable.”

“My plans aren’t any of your concern,” Castiel replied. “You will have those account numbers when I feel we are closer to the end times.”

“When you _feel_? _Feeling_ is not good enough, Castiel. You damn well better _know_ when this is going to happen. Except, hold on, the whole point of ‘the Plan’ is that it can happen overnight with little warning. You will get me those accounts now, or I will take matters into my own hands.”

“Exactly what could you do?” Castiel drew himself up, towering over Crowley.

If the intimidation tactic had any effect on him, Crowley didn’t show any sign. “Telling would ruin the surprise.”

“If you hurt anyone—”

“Any threat from you would be a lot scarier if you hadn’t just lost my man. Again.”

Castiel whirled around and, sure enough, the table Dean and the man had occupied was empty. In fact, neither of them was in sight. Worse still, when he turned back around, Crowley had disappeared into the night as well. _This is not my night_.

Dismayed, annoyed, and worried, Castiel brooded the whole way back to his penthouse. His best shot at undermining Heaven’s plan was working with Crowley, but every interaction with him only reminded Castiel of his own powerlessness. The only way to protect Dean would be to keep him locked away, which certainly wasn’t a functional solution. _Ignorance is bliss. If only I had said no to Heaven’s work—no, that train of thought helps no one._ All the information, all the planning, any attempt to overthrow Heaven’s plan rested on Crowley and he couldn’t control Crowley. He couldn’t watch over Dean every second. The tightrope he walked was shaking and at some point he was going to fall and everyone he loved would go down with him. Innocent Jack and Dean were going to suffer because he was too selfish to let them go. Castiel opened the door to the penthouse.

Jack was lounging on the sofa with an old sci-fi novel in his hands. Happy, healthy, relaxed Jack was a welcome sight. So tempting to go over to him and sink onto his lap, forget the world in his embrace. After all, he had done that so many times before. But that would border on using Jack. That was wrong. He was supposed to treat him better than that.

“Cas?” Jack said as he sat up. “Something wrong?”

Castiel loosened his tie. “Nothing.”

For a moment, that answer worked. Castiel shed his trenchcoat as he walked across the room, tossing it onto a chair. In the bedroom, he continued stripping off his clothes.

“I thought we were done lying to each other,” Jack said.

 _Not this. Not again_. Castiel wiped at his eyes, ignoring the slight wetness on his fingertips. “I just want a shower and to go to bed.”

“I was hoping to spend a little time with you,” Jack said.

“You can join me.” Castiel dropped the rest of his clothing onto the floor.

He expected some sort of a fight, but Jack silently followed him into the bathroom, only shedding his pajamas just before entering the shower. Not caring about Jack’s preference, Castiel turned the water on until it was almost unbearably hot. The heat would cleanse the city stink from his skin. The pain would give his mind a different focus than this writhing nest of vipers trying to convince him of his worthlessness. _Uriel and Crowley will get what they want from me. They always do._ Every day was a fight. He was sore, physically and mentally.

 _I should confess everything to Naomi_. But he couldn’t trust the other Angels. He winced as another headache started.

Jack’s touch was feather light against his back, stroking along his spine. He made slow circles along muscles. The touches turned into a gentle massage and Castiel began relaxing. Which, predictably, was when Jack murmured against his ear. “What’s wrong with Dean’s new friend?”

Castiel spun and crashed into the tile wall, almost losing his balance entirely. “What?”

“I’m not an idiot. You’ve been out late every Thursday for the last few weeks and that happens to be the same night Dean always meets up with this guy Trey.”

Any hope of relaxing vanished into the shower mist. Castiel reached for the faucet, but Jack grabbed his hand. “Let me go.”

“This is concerning _Dean_.”

“I don’t want to start fighting about this again.”

“So it’s Angel business. We’re supposed to be keeping him out of that.”

“Nothing in my life is untouched by them.” _And I can not trust them. Damn this headache._

Jack roughly grabbed his shoulders and when Castiel couldn’t look up, Jack dipped his fingers under his chin and forced their gazes to meet. “He’s _our_ Dean.”

Castiel slumped against the shower wall. “And you’ll always protect him.”

“Of course.” Jack frowned and slid his hands up to cup Castiel’s face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Another migraine.”

The scowl on Jack’s lips deepened. “I want you to talk to Martha.”

“There is nothing she can do for me.”

“We won’t know—”

“I know how to stop them!” Castiel clutched onto Jack’s wrists and tried to push him away, but he wasn’t willing to put too much force into the move. He didn’t want to hurt Jack in the slippery shower and apparently Jack wasn’t willing to let go. _One more way I have lost control_. Tears mixed with steaming water. “Let me go. Please.”

“What do you mean you can stop them?” Jack said.

“Jack, let me go.”

“Answer me.”

“If you don’t release me, I will force you to.”

And with those words, that angry expression of Jack’s settled back into place. The one Castiel had allowed himself to believe was banished from their apartment. Unable to say anything, Castiel only watched as Jack stormed out of the shower, knocking back the curtain. All fury, Jack grabbed a towel and didn’t even look back as he dried off. A month’s worth of healing their relationship ripped apart in mere seconds. Water cascaded from the shower head and soaked the floor and Castiel didn’t even care. He reached for the faucet. His hand was shaking. _Jack will leave. I’ve tested his patience too far._ _An Angel only trusts other Angels. But they are the ones who will do the most harm. I can’t trust them. An Angel only trusts other Angels. No. No that’s not right_.

The pain was sharp. All he could hear was a high pitch whine in his ears. Around and around the mental argument went. He needed his pills. The ones in his trenchcoat. But he couldn’t open his eyes. The lights were too bright. Water pounded against his skin and it burned at him. He whimpered.

“Cas?”

He was falling. He expected to hit hard porcelain, but when he dropped, Jack caught him. “Turn it off. Turn it off.” They were moving down and Castiel put his arms around the tub’s edge. The water stopped hitting him, but the lights were still hot against his eyes. “The lights.” Blessedly they went out. “My right coat pocket. I have pills.”

By the time Jack returned with the bottle and a glass of water, Castiel could open his eyes. Unfortunately his hands were shaking too badly and Jack had to open the bottle for him. The rage had gone out of Jack, replaced with a level of worry Castiel had never seen in his boyfriend before. He was hovering close by, watching every movement.

 _Don’t think about that_. “Help me to bed, please.”

Silent and strong, Jack easily assisted with this latest plea. His touch was gentle again as he dried Castiel off and offered his support. He even reached over and flipped off the bedroom light when Castiel winced again.

Laying down was delicious, as if the world finally made sense again. Jack continued hovering close by for a moment. Then he took a step away. Castiel reached out his hand. “Please don’t go.”

Jack crawled into bed with him. Touching made Jack more real, but with that came the truth of his concern. That worry in his blue eyes wasn’t going away as they held each other. _It isn’t fair to keep him in the dark._ Unable to accept the scrutiny, Castiel buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. If he didn’t see it, maybe he could ignore it.

Except Jack always communicated so much with his body. He was stiff instead of relaxed. His arms were firm weights.

 _I can’t bear all of this_. Castiel felt hot tears on his cheeks and he pulled back enough to wipe away tears. Or he would have if Jack hadn’t reached up and done that for him. Jack’s hand lingered on his face. _Will he leave when he learns the whole truth?_ More tears, more of Jack’s fingers tracing along and trying to comfort him. Castiel let out a shaky breath. In a hoarse whisper, he confessed. “I get the headaches when I resist.”

Jack scowled. “Resist?”

“Heaven’s training. I thought they only trained new Angels, but after I argued with Uriel’s authority, they put me through more of it.”

“You’re talking about brainwashing.”

“It’s not—”

“They strapped you down and are forcing you to think the way they want.”

 _An Angel only trusts other Angels. An Angel obeys God and Heaven. An Angel is above Man._ Castiel closed his eyes tight. “Stop it. I chose this.”

“Just because—”

“My head is killing me and you are making it worse. Stop.”

Jack brushed his fingers through the edges of Castiel’s hair. “What can I do to help?”

“Listen to me.” Castiel opened his eyes again. Jack was so close to him. “I have been working with a Demon named Crowley. He has given me these pills instead of the Angels’ ‘cure.’ He is the one who has circumvented the Angels’ attempts to lure Dean into one of their companies. Dean’s friend isn’t a friend at all. The man obeys Crowley. I have been trying to follow him, to learn his identity, but the Angels watch my every move. My every keystroke at work.”

“I could look into him.”

“They are watching you too.”

“I know.” Jack grinned wolfishly. “I may have broken Balthazar’s firewall a few times. No one’s come after me yet.”

“I don’t have enough information on him for a computer search.”

“We’ll have to get the details out of Dean.”

“He can’t know—”

“I know.” Jack lightly brushed his hand along Castiel again. “We’ll have to go slow.”

Castiel nodded. Whether unburdening his stress or the painkillers had kicked in, his head hurt significantly less. Jack drew him farther into his arms and Castiel nuzzled up against him. This peaceful moment in Jack’s arms was what he needed more than anything else right now. Yes, having Dean on his other side would have been nice, but Jack understood so much more than him. _Because you’ve shared nothing with Dean_. Burrowing into Jack more, Castiel shoved away those thoughts. He had enough on his mind already. He didn’t need to think about how he would have to confess everything to Dean at some point. Better to ignore those dire fantasies about Dean leaving when he discovered the truth while he still could.

For now, let Jack worry. Let him have that burden, because for the first time in weeks, Castiel’s head stopped hurting. He fell blissfully asleep in his lover’s arms.


	60. Chapter 60

Trey’s boss had a house with a freaking yard. The house was made out of brick, too, and nice looking. Dean couldn’t even dream of owning one day, and certainly not in the middle of Manhattan. Just in case, he double checked the address Trey had given him three times before making his way across the street. Definitely the right place.

Dean felt pretty damn awkward walking up to the security fence and explaining himself to the couple of guys who greeted him. They had that same black suit and sunglasses look. Hopefully Dean’s future uniform, though would certainly be a step down from the suit Amy had insisted on buying him. Didn’t bother him so long as the pay was decent. Though, honestly, if the guy could afford this kind of house, maybe the pay would be great.

After conferring on their earpieces, the guys at the fence opened up the gate for Dean. He muttered a thank you and worked his way up the driveway. The garage was spacious, fit for at least three cars. The door was up and sitting inside was a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air. Even from this distance, the poor darling looked old. Someone had not taken care of her.

Dean couldn’t help himself. He checked over his shoulder. Lucky for him, the security guys were walking the perimeter. No one had told him to report directly to the front door, so a little detour couldn’t hurt. Wiping his lip, Dean strode over to the Bel-Air. Touching a car without permission was a sacrilege, specially something beautiful. Well, this car ought to be beautiful, but negligence meant it needed a new coat of paint, new mufflers, new interior—and that was just what Dean would prescribe without seeing under the hood. At least the poor darling didn’t have any signs of rust on the body. Little elbow grease and she’d shine.

“Dean?” Trey said.

Dean back-peddled away from the car. He’d been close enough to touch, though technically he hadn’t left a damn fingerprint behind. “Sorry. Got a thing for old cars. Take it this is your boss’s.”

“A recent acquisition.”

“Well, good thing, or I’d be having second thoughts,” Dean said with a laugh.

Trey raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, sorry. I mean, if man can’t take care of his car, can’t be much of an employer.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” a rough, British voice said. A man walked around the corner into the garage. He was short, maybe all of five and a half-feet, and didn’t help that he was standing so close to Trey who was around six feet. The stranger had dark hair, a beard that was just beyond stubble length, and an impeccable black pinstripe suit. “I take it you’re Trey’s drinking buddy?”

Dean held back the wince because damn, that sounded like a bad way to get introduced. Trey looked a little apologetic as well. Probably the boss making a bad summary of whatever Trey had managed to tell him. Guy was too polite to flat out say ‘drinking buddy’ like that. Dean held out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

The man looked down at Dean’s hand, looked back up at him, and was throughly unimpressed. Damn it. _Already screwing this up_. “Unfortunately,” the man said dryly, “Trey was mistaken. I don’t have an opening on my security team at the present moment.”

The smile on Dean’s lips withered and before he had a chance to change anything about that, the man was spinning on his heels. Trey was quick to follow him. _I can not keep searching like this. It can not keep being this shitty._ Dean glanced over at the Bel-Air and had a sympathy pang. Beat-up, but with plenty of potential there if someone was willing to go to the effort. And then he had an idea. “What about the car!”

Slowly, the man turned back to face Dean. “What about it?”

“Well, do you have someone to fix it yet?”

“Trey gave me your resume. You didn’t even graduate _high school_.”

Dean pulled out his phone. Thank God for cameras and vanity. “That might be. But a buddy of mine runs a junkyard out in the country. Put in quite a few hours restoring all kinds of vehicles, ‘specially Chevys. Here.”

With a quirked eyebrow and a frustrated frown, the man snatched the phone out of Dean’s hand. And a few seconds later, that disapproval was smoothing away. “If you’re lying to me, I will be more than offended.”

“Swear I’m not. The ’67 Impala’s mine. Too expensive to keep her in the city or I’d offer to show her off. The others in that album are ones I did a bulk of the work on.”

“And you could restore the Bel-Air on your own.”

“Engines, body work, that I’m great at, but you’d probably want someone else to redo the leather interior. I could make it more functional, only I’m guessing you’d like a little more class with it.”

The man handed Dean’s phone back. “Get me an estimate. If you manage to come in under the complete tosser that was recommended to me, you can have the job.”

 _I’ve got a chance_. Dean’s smile was back full force. “Completely understandable. What’s your goal for the restoration?”

“I want the bloody thing to work. I don’t plan on entering it into any shows really, though the more original the parts, the better. Is that enough details or are you determined to make me late to my meeting?”

“Last question, I swear, I’ve got permission to stick around and do the estimate now?”

“Yes.” Then the man was taking off towards the end of the drive where a town car was waiting beyond the fence.

“I’ll have one of the guards get you some paper,” Trey said.

“Any chance I can borrow a laptop too?” Dean asked.

“Sure. I’ll have one sent over.” Trey hurried to catch up to his boss, stopping only a moment to talk to one of the security men.

Okay, the job wasn’t guaranteed, but he had a shot at it. _Seems like a pretty good shot_. And it was fixing _cars_ , not flipping patties or doing grunt work or even standing around trying to look intimidating. Something he might actually enjoy. He was having a hard time containing the sheer joy of hope, though letting it run wild would be dangerous. What if he didn’t get the job in the end? _Don’t think about that. Focus_.

Dean popped the hood of the Bel-Air and sighed down at the engine. Dust, dirt, grime, rust. About what he expected. “Oh darling, someone didn’t love you at all. We’ll get you fixed right up. Promise.”

 

*******

 

“Cas?” Jack called out as he walked into the penthouse. Place was entirely too quiet for anyone else to be around, even if Cas never made much noise at all. Still, Jack had half-hoped Cas would stay home. The headache had lingered into the morning and that worried him more than he could say. There was something raw about Cas last night and that hadn’t left either.

Jack walked over to the fridge, tugging down his tie. Only downside to the new job was having to wear a suit. He’d be thankful that it was Friday, except they had another weekend auction. Instead of lounging around, he’d have to haul his butt down to the auction house by nine am. _Not that I should be lounging with what Cas told me. Has to be some way to figure out who Dean’s ‘friend’ is._ Having a picture—or hell, even a _name_ —would help. If he couldn’t casually get the information out of Dean, he’d have to raid his phone. _Because secrets and skulking around are going to keep that relationship happy._ He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and wished it was something else. Wasn’t a good time to tempt the edge of the wagon.

There was a loud, cheerful knock. Jack put the bottle down and went to answer the door. _We need to get him his own key_.

The door was barely open before Dean was coming through. He latched his arms around Jack and planted a big kiss on him. One kiss slipped into two, the second more drawn out, energetic and more sensual. Dean managed to shut the door behind him and they danced back a couple steps as their lips continued. Finally, Jack managed to break the lip lock, chuckling. “Not that I’m going to turn it down, but what was that for?”

“I got a job.” Dean tugged his own tie loose, unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt, and swooped in for another kiss.

Jack fell in with it, if nothing else to disguise the sudden worry. He held Dean close, which made the younger man squirm. Before last night, Jack would’ve been happy for him. Ecstatic. But Cas had been worried about a Demon offering Dean a job and this couldn’t be a coincidence.

Dean pulled his mouth away, but they stayed close. “Cas home?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe we should wait for him.”

Jack grinned and reached down, brushing his fingers against Dean’s groin. Yup, he was hard. Jack shared some of that already. “You really think you can wait?” He palmed Dean more.

And got a delicious groan. Dean’s eyes fluttered and his grip tightened on Jack’s shoulders. “Fuck.”

“Thought that was what you had in mind.” Jack kept the smile in place, counting on Dean being distracted by the touch to notice the slight air of falseness. _I’m going to Hell for this_. But they needed the information and they needed Dean to remain oblivious. He couldn’t gauge reactions if he was squirming so bad with his own. “So what’s this job?”

“F-fuck that feels good.” Dean rubbed up against him.

“Stop swearing.”

Dean laughed. “Yes, sir.”

“And I believe I asked you a question.”

“This rich guy—ungh, that that just isn’t fair. Whoa, that didn’t mean stop.”

“You stopped explaining,” Jack said. He was toying with Dean’s belt instead of giving even over the clothing contact.

“Okay, so I went in thinking I could get a security job. Didn’t pan out, but the guy collects cars and he’s got this Bel-Air in need of some serious work. Managed to get my bid way under the competitor’s, so I get to do it.”

That deserved a little reward. Jack undid Dean’s belt and pulled it out, dropping it off to the side. He continued working on undressing Dean and at the same time, tugged at him to keep him walking towards the bedroom. “Is it temporary?”

“More like an audition. Guy wants to see what I can do, but I do it well enough could be other cars for me to fix. Guess he’s a pretty serious collector. But hey, at least it’s something.”

 _It’s something all right_. They were mostly undressed now, Dean down to his briefs and Jack still had his pants on. Kissing came back into play as they climbed onto the bed. There, for a moment, their eyes met. Dean was beautiful as ever, alive with all that extra energy and Jack only wanted to scoop him up and protect him. Maybe it’d be better if the three of them grabbed as much cash from the Angels as they could and run for it. Only the Angels would track them down and that wouldn’t go well for anyone. If they were willing to force Cas into more brainwashing treatments, then who knew what they’d do to Jack or Dean. Gambling with his own life was no problem, but putting the handsome man currently writhing underneath him in danger was too much. Not again. Not after what happened with Ianto all those years ago.

Dean hooked his arm around Jack’s neck and nuzzled up against him enough to bring Jack’s attention back down. “Hey, where’d you go?”

Jack brought his grin back out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What’d we say about—”

Jack rolled his hips forward, rubbing his groin up against Dean’s. Then he leaned down and nipped at his ear. “Not really in a talking mood. How about you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Jack found that spot, that one along Dean’s neck that just undid the younger man. They groaned together, though Dean was so much louder. So Jack decided to undertake a little personal challenge. He’d see just how much moaning and shouting he could get Dean to do.

Because right now, he’d do anything to silence that nagging voice in the back of his head. _I’m not falling back into old habits. I’m not._ Because he was doing what it took to protect Dean, right? Oh yes, concentrating on pleasuring Dean was far better than letting his mind start up the guilt trips.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm consistently surprised (in that good way) that such interest for PB exists. Some of you are loyal peeps here for years, some are new, but the scattering of messages, hits, kudos, and subscriptions tells me that y'all are still interested in this story.
> 
> So, I'm going to sit down, read through PB, and see what I can do about getting this back into something that resembles a regular schedule. I can't promise anything other than "I'm trying" at this point, so please don't get your hopes too high yet. Celebrate when I put together a new chapter for you ;) 12/20/2016
> 
>  
> 
> You've trusted me on this strange new ship for PB, for which I adore you. Take a shot on [Sacrifice](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5714713/chapters/13166017), a Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural crossover with all the monsters and powers kicked in. Young Sam and Dean roll into Sunnydale. Can the Summers girls and the Winchester boys manage to save the world?


End file.
